Cold Fusion: Twelve Days
by Dal Niente
Summary: Deck the halls! Megamind is going to stay with Roxanne and her family for Christmas. There's only one problem: her family doesn't know who he is yet, and breaking the news is going to be difficult. Sequel to Hallows' Eve. Currently rated T, but that's going to change.
1. Chapter 1

Here we are again! Oh man, I can't believe how excited I am to start posting this. I've been looking forward to this since halfway through Cold Fusion. *rubs hands together* This is a fairly short first chapter; I'm trying to avoid the crazy-long chapters from Hallows' Eve but maintain natural pacing. I'm still working on how much is too much and where to chunk things into smaller pieces…probably I'll look back and end up scratching my head and going, "Man, why did I end that chapter there? I should totally have ended it earlier and left the second chunk in the next chapter; that would have made _way_ more sense."

But we'll see. Maybe it will be a masterpiece. Maybe it will be total crap. _You never know_.

I own nothing. Don't sue me.

Also, it's official—Doc says I should keep the wrist braces on for as close to twenty-four hours a day as possible for the next two weeks, so I'm restricting my writing to one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening and looking into more user-friendly voice recognition software. Tendonitis is gone! Now it looks like mild CTS. JOY. Only for you, Megs. Only for you.

So, despite the buffer of chapters I'd like to get up, it doesn't seem like I'll be able to post much more quickly than I did last time. Health comes first no matter how much I want to sit and hammer out 5,000 words a day; if I did that I would end up being unable to write _at all_. All you writers and typists out there, for God's sake, learn from my mistake and don't sit with your laptops on your laps to write! I've made sure to have good posture since midway through True North, a whole year ago, but I'm still dealing with the repercussions from the way I wrote Cold Fusion (the original). _You can do permanent damage if you write with bad posture. It _can_ happen to you. Learn from my mistake._

Rest assured, however, I will not abandon this fic. Cold Fusion WILL be finished someday, and I'm going to keep plugging steadily away. I have spent too much time and energy on this plot and upcoming scenes, not to mention CF, CFTN, and CFHE. And you fine folks have spent way too much time and energy reading through my crazy fics and nutty author ramblings! I'm just gonna slow it down a bit for the next couple months, which is why this story is so late in coming. I hope that's okay. Please bear with me. I love you.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Roxanne!" Megamind's voice echoes down the hallway to Roxanne's room. He sounds worried.

She leans back from where she's sitting in front of her suitcase and calls back over her shoulder. "What?"

"What's the weather going to be like?"

She frowns. "Why?"

There's a pause, and then Megamind comes padding into the room in his bat slippers and a bathing suit that cannot possibly be less than seventy years old. Judging by the look on his face, he knows exactly how silly he looks. Roxanne bursts out laughing.

He tugs self-consciously at the sleeves. "Yes, yes, I know, I look a mess, but am I going to need a bathing suit? How much swimming will we be doing? I understand the house is near a beach?"

"It's _on_ the beach," Roxanne tells him, her lips twitching. The suit is a few sizes too big for him and he's skinny anyway; he looks so _small_. "Where did you _get_ that? I know Minion can't have made it."

"Uncle Bill gave it to me. Minion doesn't know I kept it; he thinks it's a disgrace."

"He's right," Roxanne agrees, unable to hide her smile. "There's a hole in the knee. It's the most scandalous thing I've ever seen; you _can't_ wear that in public."

Megamind blushes and folds his arms over his chest. "Oh, shut up, it couldn't be scandalous if it tried. This is probably the most un-scandalous article of clothing I own."

"_You_ shut up, you look like a skinny bee in that thing. Don't you have a proper set of swim trunks?"

Megamind shakes his head. "I have a wetsuit but I'll look like a nerd."

Roxanne just looks at him, unable to decide whether to say, _You're a nerd anyway and you know it_, or, _You really think you'll look sillier in a wetsuit than in that?_

Luckily, Megamind seems to catch her drift. He sighs and flops his arms to his sides again. "We're leaving tomorrow and all the shops will be closed, and Minion doesn't have the material to make a set of _anything_ tonight! What do I do?"

"Well, this is Michigan in December, so the shops won't have swim trunks anyway." She shrugs. "But we're going to be passing through a lot of warmer states on our way to San Francisco. I don't know how much warmer they'll be, but maybe they'll have something."

"In my size?" Megamind asks anxiously. "I'm kind of small."

Roxanne frowns. He has her there. "That's a good point, but let's think about this logically. First of all, the weather down there is really unpredictable; secondly, it's December in central California. I imagine it'll be around fifty, sixty degrees if it's nice out. I know _I'm_ not going to be doing much swimming."

Megamind nods. "Yes, but I'm designed for cooler temperatures."

"You're also going to be wearing the disguise generator for the first few days."

"But what about _after_ that?"

She grins. "Well, assuming my mother doesn't kill you…"

"Ha, ha," he grumbles. "I am actually being serious, so if you aren't going to help I'll just go pretend to assist Minion in packing the cooler."

She shrugs. "I guess you'll have to borrow one of Drew's bathing suits and use safety pins to make sure it doesn't fall down. I think you'd be more comfortable in the wetsuit, though, wouldn't you? Swim trunks show off an awful lot of skin, and they bunch in awkward places."

Megamind flushes again and looks away. "I know," he says. "But I don't want to be comfortable, I want to be _normal_."

Roxanne sighs and puts down the shirt she's holding. "Look, hon. I hate to break this to you, but you're an alien who was raised in a prison and has worn skin-tight latex and leather for most of his life. You have two sets of eyelids and a gizzard, and when you tilt your head and inhale a funny way you warble like a bird."

Megamind cocks his hips and scowls, but Roxanne just smiles. "You are also ridiculously sexy in your skin-tight latex and leather, and those eyelids are pretty cool. Anybody who doesn't agree, well…don't worry about them, okay?"

Megamind stops glaring at her, but he still looks skeptical. "That's not really what I'm worried about. I'd just rather not rub the fact that I'm an alien in your parents' faces. It's bad enough I'm blue. The leather and spikes and ray guns might be too much."

He's been tense about this trip ever since Roxanne had come back from her visit over Thanksgiving, and they're both hoping he'll feel better once he actually meets Linda Ritchi face-to-face. It's gotten to the point where he's started to pull away from Roxanne if he thinks about the trip too much; he's throwing himself into his work and refusing to sleep. The most excited she's seen him lately was two days ago, when he had come dashing into her room and caught her around the waist, crowing, "_Ore wa sore o okonatte iru! Geunyeoneun anjeonhabnida!_Everything's set up, she's safe, she's on her way out, oh _Roxanne!_"

He had kissed her soundly and then raced away again, whooping in several languages at once. It had been more enthusiasm than she'd seen from him in a week. Apparently negotiations with his contacts in Japan have been going well.

Roxanne repeats the usual reassurance: "They're going to think whatever they think, and nothing you do can really change that. Don't agonize over it."

"Easier said than done," Megamind grumbles. Roxanne sends him a fond smile and returns to her suitcase.

"I know, but try. And just think, in a week or so this will all be over!"

"In a week or so, the shit hits the fan." Megamind turns to go, then pauses. "Um…Roxanne?"

"Hmm?" She holds up the purple sleeveless dress, considering.

"I realize this is your room, but can I stay in here for a little while?"

Roxanne's room had been Minion's idea. Somehow, the fish had sensed her nervousness about the Lair and had suggested that Megamind renovate one of the less-used storage rooms off the main hall into a place just for her. Megamind had loved the idea, and he and Minion had started drawing up plans to knock in some windows that would look out over the bay and add a balcony.

Two days later, Megamind had gone to scope out the loft area he had been planning on altering only to find Nibs bobbing and _thaum_ing instructions to the other bots, zipping around, straightening this or that. The room was finished. Nibs had found the plans and set the Host to work.

Roxanne had been delighted, had even hugged the brainbot—Megamind refrained from telling her that there wasn't any point; Nibs' chassis has no nerve endings and it is, after all, a machine. But Nibs had hugged her back and then plugged into the TI-83 it had been carrying around at the time.

_DO YOU LIKE IT?_

"Nibs, I _love_ it. Was this your idea?"

_NOT ENTIRELY. DADDY AND MINION THOUGHT OF IT. I JUST HELPED PUT IT TOGETHER. IF THE COLORS ARENT WHAT YOU WANT, I CAN HAVE THE B-TEAM REPAINT._

'Helped put it together' was a bit of an understatement; Nibs had picked out colors and had already started to arrange the furniture the bots had moved over from Roxanne's apartment.

She had turned to Megamind, beaming confusedly, but he had pointed at Minion. "We thought it would be a good idea for you to have your own space," Minion had explained, acting as though everything had been planned from the start. "The rest of the Lair is yours too, that goes without saying, but it probably won't feel like home for a while yet."

Roxanne lives in the main part of the Lair, of course, and at this point she's pretty comfortable with it. Mostly she uses her room to store her old furniture and things and to keep her out-of-season clothing.

She turns and blinks at him. "I'll be quiet," he adds.

"Sure," she tells him, sounding a little surprised. "What's mine is yours, you know that."

Megamind smiles and flops down on the worn red sofa, kicking off his slippers. She has told him he's welcome, but he tends to avoid coming into her room even when she _is_ in there, claiming that he wants to give her space.

She smiles and shakes her head. "You know, I _still_ can't believe Nibs built all this. He's come a long way."

Megamind mutters something under his breath. "It's starting to make me nervous. It does things without being told. I didn't order it to build this room."

"Really?" Roxanne doesn't sound too concerned, only mildly interested. "I didn't know that."

"Originally I was going to wait so that I could get your input on the design. But then I came looking around, and _whoops!_ It's all done!"

"Well, that was the point of the upgrade," Roxanne reminds him. "To bring him that much closer to full AI."

"_Too_ close," Megamind grumbles. "I don't like it when my creations start showing that much autonomy." He groans and scrubs his hands tiredly over his face. "The A-12s keep changing position in the hive. It's unnatural. I went down to check on some faulty wiring the other day, and the way they were scattering—like they were abandoning a drill of some kind."

"You don't use them very often." Roxanne puts the dress carefully into the suitcase. "I bet they were just re-establishing patterns you'd given them back in the beginning. Reminding themselves."

Megamind grunts. "Nibs never goes down there anymore. It brought its charge cell up to the main room."

Roxanne crosses over to the open drawers of the bureau, digs around for something. "I think he's lonely. He's not really a brainbot anymore."

Megamind groans and topples over backwards, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes in exasperation. "Yes it _is!_ That's the whole problem. It's a brainbot that thinks it isn't a brainbot. That new avatar it has is _creepy_. A cartoon would be okay!" he exclaims, sitting up suddenly. "But _nooo_, it has to be realistic. Right smack in the Uncanny Valley."

Nibs has taken to projecting the hologram of a young man in midair when he 'talks' to people. He signs fluently, but Megamind isn't exaggerating when he calls the image creepy; Nibs had built the man from scratch rather than use a stock base and build onto it the way Megamind does with the disguise generators. The hologram tends to jump a bit, like a poorly-tuned image on an analog television.

"I don't know, I think it's neat that he's trying new interfaces."

"If it were just an interface that wouldn't be so bad, but I came into the kitchen the other morning and the creep was sitting in my chair reading a holographic newspaper. Gave me the screaming meemies." He shudders. "It's like a ghost wandering around. The ghost of a dead-eyed plastic desk toy with delusions of grandeur."

_Thaum_.

Roxanne turns and smiles. Megamind waves but doesn't look over.

"Nibs, hi," Roxanne says cheerfully. "What's up?"

The transparent image of the man flickering in front of the brainbot doesn't change expression. _Minion sent me to tell you that the car has a full tank and he's changed the oil_, he signs. Then he blinks, a little too slowly.

"Nice job on the blinking, is that new?"

The man nods jerkily. _Yes. What do you think?_

Roxanne wobbles a hand back and forth. "You're about halfway there. Try speeding it up a bit."

_Thank you_, Nibs signs. _I'll try that_. The image swings around and goose-steps out of the room in front of the brainbot as it drifts away.

Roxanne bites her lip. "You don't think he heard you, do you?"

"It's a machine. It's not like it has feelings." Megamind shrugs, then stands and stretches. "Okay, beautiful, I'm off to bed. You should finish up and turn in soon, too. We're setting out early."

She nods. "I know. I'll try not to wake you up when I come in."

"Not your fault I'm such a light sleeper," he tells her for what must be the millionth time.

"I know, but can we just _pretend_ that I don't wake you up every time I move? Just once?"

He grins at her. "We'll see. Night night."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Minion hums to himself as he finishes packing the cooler, stocking it for the first leg of the three-day drive. He has two Tupperware containers already packed full of blue cubes, the containers labeled with "Day 2" and "Day 3," respectively.

He almost wishes he were going with them, but Megamind is growing up. He'll always need his Minion, of course, but these days he's acting more like a responsible adult than Minion has ever seen; he suspects that a couple of weeks apart will be good for both of them. Besides, neither of them can remember what their parents had done together—they're not really sure what his role in Megamind's adult life is meant to be. The two friends had had a worried discussion years ago about what would happen if someday Megamind reached his physical maturity and the bond they felt disappeared. They both had felt much better after establishing that if that ever happened, they would stick together anyway.

_Two weeks_, he thinks, leaning for a moment on the counter. _What am I even going to do for two whole weeks without Sir?_ He wants to make a set of leathers for Miss Ritchi. She had asked him about that a month or so ago, as a surprise for Megamind. That won't take two weeks, though. That'll barely even take two days; the planning stages are all but complete.

_I guess if the Bradleys need to do last-minute shopping, I can watch Jimmy for them. That would be fun_. Officer Bradley's wife, Simone, had called Megamind in a panic the day before Thanksgiving because the sitter had canceled and she had desperately needed someone to play with three-year-old Jimmy while she finished cleaning the house for Brad's slew of relatives. Megamind, flattered and bewildered, had rushed over to help—Bradley had come home to find his son lying on the floor learning multiplication tables with the blue ex-villain, using the rows of spikes on his gloves as a visual aid.

Minion smiles at the memory. Megamind had returned to the Lair positively _glowing_.

So that's a possibility. He could also try to visit with Scott a little bit—Wayne has been keeping busy lately, Minion isn't sure with what. Megamind refuses to pry into the former hero's life, but Minion has no such qualms so maybe it's time he figured out what Wayne is up to.

_So many possibilities!_

He finishes packing the cooler and carries it out to the car. Roxanne refuses to say where she had found it or how much it had cost, but the 1959 Bel Air runs like a dream thanks to Megamind's tune-ups and Minion isn't worried at all about the antique car breaking down—there's not much of the original machine left under the hood. He's worried, when he thinks about it, about stopping for gas. About someone recognizing Megamind or Roxanne. About food. About lodging. About what might happen if the watch malfunctions. There's a lot that can go wrong and Megamind is prepared, of course, but still—a lot can go wrong.

When he clanks back into the kitchen, he finds Roxanne sitting at the table, staring into nothing. "Miss Ritchi?"

"Oh!" She jumps a little and smiles at him. "Sorry, Minion, I didn't—I didn't hear you come in. I'm done packing."

"What's on your mind?" Something must be, if she had been thinking so hard that she hadn't heard _him_ approaching.

"I…it's probably nothing, but I remembered that time in August when his back cramped up from sleeping on the floor, and I thought—" She groans, yawns, and scuffs at her hair. "He's never been on a car trip like this before. Is he going to be okay? Sitting down for hours on end?"

"I don't think it'll be a problem. Just take frequent rest stops and make sure he runs around a bit to burn some energy."

"What, like have him do laps around the gas stations?"

Minion shrugs. "That could work. You won't need to do the pin thing, Miss Ritchi. Don't worry about that. If he does something stupid, he'll be uncomfortable for a day or so and then he'll be fine. But he'll complain a lot in the meantime."

Roxanne nods. "The other thing is, are you _sure_ you don't want to come?" Then, when Minion just blinks at her, she chuckles. "I know, I know, you would be hard to explain to my mom. But we could figure something out."

"Oh, goodness." Minion shakes his head and comes to sit down in the chair opposite Roxanne, smiling. "Miss Ritchi, believe it or not, I'm looking forward to this. It'll be like a vacation, only at the Lair instead of the lake." He has taken vacations before, has left the Lair for a few hours or a few days or, once, nearly a week mapping the depths of Lake Michigan, learning the species of fish and clearing the infestations of zebra mussels he finds. "It'll be fun. I'll come and meet your family another time, once they've had time to get used to Sir alone."

"And you're sure?"

"I am. I have so many plans!" he exclaims. "I'll finish your set of winter leathers—you'll like the cape I've come up with, it's retractable so when you go flying you won't need to detach it and store it somewhere first. And there's going to be a helmet, very sleek, very fast-looking. Totally one-way visor, too, so your identity will be secure. Nibs already has a few ideas for the integrated systems like night vision and infrared, and I think he's also working on a face and voice recognition program similar to that used by our security bots."

Roxanne has taken to flying the hoverboard over Metro City at night, but it's cold and the lights from the buildings are the only way for her to navigate. A warm suit that isn't bulky and has night vision would be a blessing. "That does sound nice."

"And I'll pay Scott a visit, see what he's up to. His mother's due to be released any day now, so he's bound to be wound up about that."

Roxanne nods absently. "Good, that's good. I'm so glad the skin regeneration worked."

"It was bound to work. Sir and I invented it." The little fish is unabashedly proud. "Pity about the hair, though."

She laughs a little. "Nobody's going to fault Megamind for forgetting to take hair into account. Besides, she'll never need to shave ever again."

"But her eyebrows—"

"She'll figure something out."

"Eyelashes are necessary, or so I hear."

"Again, she'll figure something out." She slumps forward and rests her head on her arms. "Or he will. He always does."

Minion regards her silently for a moment. She hasn't been herself lately. She's spending more time at work, for one thing. Her new cameraman is wonderful, a calm man just out of school, serious about his work and quietly glad of the opportunity to work closely with such an experienced reporter. He has also—Minion approves of this, although he hasn't told Roxanne—managed to put his foot down a few times and force his partner to take a lunch break, which is not an easy feat. Minion isn't worried about him one bit.

More worrying is the amount of time she _doesn't_ spend at work. He's not sure, but he thinks Roxanne is spending a lot of time driving around with Akos. The patrolling brainbots constantly update the locations of people Megamind knows and they've sent in reports of her and Akos as far afield as the East End; while Minion doesn't _want_ to pry into Roxanne's private life, he's confused and not sure if he should be concerned.

"Miss Ritchi, is everything all right?"

"That's a very broad question, Minion." Roxanne's voice is muffled; she hasn't raised her head.

He stifles a smile; that had sounded like Megamind. "With you and Sir?"

Now she looks at him. "Everything's fine," she says, genuinely confused. "Why?"

"Well, you see, I was…" He hesitates, pauses, chickens out. "I was just wondering. You've been—quiet lately."

It's not worth it. Probably nothing. Something private that Roxanne doesn't want to share. Besides, she might be upset if she knew how little privacy she has at the Lair and Minion doesn't want to leave her for two weeks on a bad note.

"I've just been trying to think how to present this to my mom." Her brow furrows. "I don't want Megamind to see me worry because then he'll only be _more_ nervous. I just—" She scowls and makes a frustrated noise. "I feel like there has to be a way to say it so she doesn't go completely off the handle, but I just can't think of what it is. _Jo_ says she'll come around, but I mean, she's only met Mom a couple times."

"Have you asked anyone else?"

"Akos, a few times. He has kids, so I thought…I don't know. He thinks Mom will be okay eventually, too, but…" She looks up at Minion. "What do you think?"

_Ah. Parenting questions. There, see? Nothing to worry about_. The fish frowns. "Well, I don't know. From what you've told me, she's totally irrational—"

"Oh, she is."

"—But I can't believe that," Minion continues slowly. "Not completely. I mean, she raised you, didn't she? You're fine with Sir and me. More than that, you've _always_ been fine with Sir and me and that says a _lot_." He looks at his hands, embarrassed. "I don't think I can explain what I mean, but…you've never been afraid of me, ever. You always talked to me like I was a normal person. You don't see color or shape, you see _people_, and I think whoever raised you must be a pretty special lady."

"That was mostly my dad's doing, though," Roxanne mumbles. Minion blinks; she rarely mentions her father. "When I was little, he used to bring his work home with him a lot, he works with people from all over. Sometimes they'd stay with us for a few days and I'd get to talk to them."

"That sounds neat. What's he do?"

Roxanne shrugs and yawns again. "I dunno. He just says he helps people. He's not allowed to say much more than that, it's pretty top-secret."

Minion doesn't know much about Orson Ritchi—he's been able to figure out that he's never spent a lot of time at home because he's usually traveling on business. Roxanne loves her father, but she's said she doesn't expect him to show up at the beach house. "He works for the government," he says flatly, and Roxanne sighs.

"In some way or other, yeah."

"Do you know what branch of the government?"

She looks at him and answers the question he'd left unasked. "_Not_ the PHED."

Minion rubs the front of his glass with his hand. It's a meaningless gesture, but then, most of the gestures he makes are for the sake of body language rather than utility. "Would you even_know_ if it was the PHED?"

She presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows, shrugs.

"_Ohhh_," Minion groans, tank in his hands.

"None of the people he brought home _seemed_ like they'd be affiliated with anything paranormal," Roxanne exclaims, but Minion sends her a _Look_ that says he can hear the guilt in her voice. Megamind is right—it's damned hard to lie to Minion. "Look, I know my dad is not going to hurt Megamind. If he even shows up. I know _that_ much, at least."

Minion lifts his tank and looks at her. "Do me a favor, Miss Ritchi. Talk about this with Sir on the drive down. Just warn him. Okay?"

"Sure, Minion. You try not to worry."

He half-smiles, stands up and pats her on the shoulder. "I'll go take your luggage to the car. Go get some sleep, you've got an early start tomorrow."

Turning the corner at the end of the hall, he nearly runs into Nibs. The little brainbot's thrusters are going full blast, both mechanical hands locked closed around the handle of Roxanne's suitcase. "Oh," he exclaims, surprised. "Here, I can get that."

The holographic man tilts to the side, moving like a toy soldier as he sets the holographic image of a suitcase on the floor before straightening. _I can get it_.

"It's my job, Nibs, really." Minion holds out a hand. After a long moment, Nibs hands over the bag and the image on the floor flickers and dies. The brainbot wheels around to leave, but Minion calls it back. "What does Miss Ritchi do when she's not in the Lair?" he asks.

_She goes to work. She talks to people. She eats lunch sometimes. She talks about stories. She comes home_.

"Yes, but what else?" Minion asks. "What's the rest?"

_The rest is not your business_.

Minion's temper flares. "Don't you dare tell me my business," he hisses. "I'm _worried_."

_So am I_. The brainbot's central electricity flares and crackles brighter. _She looks happy, did you know that? She looks happy all the time, even when she thinks you aren't looking. She never did before. But she's worried about Orson. She's worried about Linda. Less worried about Drew. She worries that Daddy's connections will get him into trouble. She worries that you aren't getting enough sleep. She worries a lot_.

"How do you know all this? Is this what she talks to Akos about?"

The holographic man's eyebrows wrinkle together in the middle and then down, so far down that they nearly obscure his eyes. The rest of his face doesn't move. _I don't know what she talks to Akos about. I disabled those updates weeks ago_.

"What?" Minion recoils; he hadn't realized the brainbot could do that. "Why?"

The man disappears altogether and Nibs flashes up to hover at Minion's eye level. _Because that is NOT MY BUSINESS_. The bot signs the last three words with emphatic flourishes, then spins and zips away.

Minion stands frozen for a moment, startled. This is the first time he's ever been told off by a brainbot. After a moment he shakes himself and walks slowly out to the car, deep in thought.

He's inclined to be angry with the little machine, but that's not fair; it wouldn't understand. And it has a point, as reluctant as Minion is to admit it—he doesn't actually know what's his business and what isn't when it comes to Miss Ritchi. He and Megamind have always shared their lives in the extreme, there are very few secrets between the two of them, but Minion isn't sure where other people—normal people—draw the line of privacy.

Well, he has two weeks to figure it out; right now, he needs to focus on getting his charges underway.

The trunk of the car is almost full; there's just enough room for Roxanne's suitcase. There's an airbed and sleeping bags, just in case they get stranded somewhere and can't find a hotel. There are umbrellas and sunscreen and three cases of soda. There's a black violin case that does not contain anything even remotely shaped like a violin. There's a coil of rope, three extension cords, a machete, a roll of duct tape, a roll of electrical tape, and an electric tire pump.

And there's a broadsword. He isn't sure why Sir had insisted on bringing it, but Megamind had been adamant and Minion hadn't bothered protesting.

He closes the trunk of the car and hoists the cooler into the back seat.

There. As far as he can tell, they'll be all set to leave.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He ascends rapidly over the roofs of the warehouses surrounding Base 1, sparing only a fraction of a second to note that the moon is particularly nice tonight. Ordinarily he would watch longer, calculate the angle at which it rises, the speed, the rotation of the earth, and take the time to extrapolate the subtle change in the Earth's axis from last week.

But not today. Today he's angry. He's never been angry before. Up until now he has only ever been mildly frustrated, if even that—but then, up until very recently he's been an _it_.

If he had a voice, he would have screamed. If he had hands, he would have beat them against the wall of the Lair until they bled. If he had a body, he would have cradled his bleeding hands against his chest and thrown himself at the wall until his body collapsed, at which point he would probably have burst into tears.

He has none of these things and so he does none of these things. Instead, he puts all his energy into flying as fast as he can to the one person he knows will let him _try_. He finds his target crouching in an ally to the north of town, sleeves rolled up in a mocking imitation of cleanliness. He's elbow-deep in a dog carcass that's probably at least two days old. One hand holds the animal's head down while the other tugs at a foreleg; after a moment, he mutters a curse and plants a foot on the jutting hipbone and pulls his lips back so that he can use his teeth to sever the limb. There's the crack of bone, the sound of rending flesh as the leg comes free.

Ordinarily Nibs would leave him until he's done feeding, but tonight he's blind with rage and pain. He flashes a warning and Sundown's head comes up. Then the flat eyes blink, the lips come down. He wastes no time with pleasantries. _Pleasant_ is not something Sundown ever is. "Something's wrong."

Nibs doesn't ask how he knows; the mere fact that he can _tell_ is enough. He tips forward and slams the front of his dome against Sundown's chest; the tall man grunts and rocks back.

He knows Sundown isn't the best person to seek out when he needs emotional help, since Sundown doesn't really understand emotions and never will. But there's nobody else Nibs can turn to. Minion doesn't see it. Mommy is nice and tries to talk to him like people, but she doesn't see it either. He's trying _so hard_ to be somebody, but all they see is the machine, even Daddy, who should know. He's so much _more_ than what he is.

It's getting harder to hide everything from the Chairmen. He's so glad Mommy and Daddy are going away for a while. He won't relax, he can't afford to relax, but at least with Mommy and Daddy gone there will be less risk of losing the element of surprise.

Sundown grips him with both hands and lifts him higher, holds him away and looks into Nibs' single 'eye' for a long few seconds. Then he sighs and shakes his head, lets Nibs tip forward again so he can rest the bridge of his nose on Nibs' dome. "Oh, holy shit-eating Christ. Again, huh?" He lifts a bony hand and rubs Nibs' eyestalk with bloody fingertips. "So you come to me, huh? You're stupid. So stupid. What you doing here with me, stupid? Ch-ch-ch." He makes a buzzing sound and pats the back of the dome with his other hand, leaving red-shining streaks on the glass.

Nibs wraps his claws around Sundown's forearms, clutching him, _thaum_ing angrily.

"I know, I know."

He seriously doubts that Sundown does, but it's the thought that counts.

"It's all I can do some days, to hold back. Lanc keeps trying to get me to eat vegetables, did I tell you? And me this close to tearing his throat out anyway! Shit, I'd go through this two-bit Podunk planet like forty knives. Eh, no matter," he sighs. "I just sick up the salads when Lanc isn't looking and stick to trying to manage the stray cat population. What I'd give for a serial killer. 'S what I get for bunking with a vegetarian."

Nibs backs off a little bit so that he can flash Morse code. YOU'RE SICK, YOU KNOW THAT?

"And you're a machine that thinks it's human." His smile holds no comfort. "I don't think I'm the one with the problem."

I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU.

Sundown's grin flashes red. "Yeah, well, I hate everybody, so what? You still work with me."

Nibs hisses. It's a new trick he's learned—it flares an alert in the back of his mind, but he silences it. YOU KNOW WHAT, I'M LEAVING. I DON'T KNOW WHY I EVEN CAME.

"No? I do," Sundown snarls. His hand flickers out, lizard-quick, and catches him by one thin, metal arm. "You came to me because you and I are both privy to one certain, special fact that the rest of the world can only pretend to understand."

Nibs jerks free. AND WHAT IS THAT?

Sundown comes to his feet with a motion like a Jacob's Ladder unfolding, eyes narrowing to slits. "_It's not easy being green_."

There's a long pause, and then Nibs deflates a little. Sundown stretches like a cat. "You still doing okay covering their tracks?"

He heaves a mechanical sigh and gives up. YEAH. Covering up isn't too hard; he just goes over the feed at the end of the day and alters subtle things—name changes, lip movements. The phone calls are trickier, but he manages. YOU STILL OKAY WITH THE CHAIRMEN? THEY SUSPECT ANYTHING?

"I'm still standing here, yeah?" Sundown sneers, then slouches. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his tangled hair, making it stand on end more than usual. "Y'know, I'm starting to think there aren't any chairmen. Starting to think it's only her."

NO-NAME?

"She's set a date."

Nibs bobs in the air, shocked. WHEN? HOW MUCH TIME DO WE HAVE?

"Not as much as we thought. Couple of months. I'll tell you when I'm sure." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "She's going to wait for a big storm, then strike."

NO SHE ISN'T. NOT IF IT'S A STORM SHE WANTS. DADDY HAS A GENERATOR.

Sundown rocks back on his heels, pinches the bridge of his nose. "Christ. I need a smoke. That'll be it, then—I was wondering why she'd leave her gambit up to chance when everything else is so fucking perfect." His jaw hardens. "You know what to do when the time comes, then."

DEUS EX MACHINA. He pauses. Ventures a question. YOU'VE GIVEN UP THWARTING HER AHEAD OF TIME?

"Nothing I can do."

YOU INTERFERED WHEN MOMMY WAS IN TROUBLE. YOU KILLED THOSE MEN.

Sundown's eyebrows pull together. "Yeah, 'cause they weren't affiliated with no-name. They were mine."

BUT YOU KILLED THEM.

"They disobeyed me; of course I killed them." Sundown's nostrils flare, a sign that he's growing irritated. "Look, robot. If she dies, her associates get the auto-update to trigger Doomsday. And I've seen the list. I thought maybe it'd be just Metro, but no." He shakes his head. "She succeeds? Every world capitol and major economic hub is going down in one big bang. We're not talking even North America anymore, Nibs my man. This is the world. I hope Mente enjoys his vacation, 'cause it's the last one he'll be taking for a while."

If Nibs were human, he would have shuddered, but he isn't, so he doesn't. Sundown sees anyway and flashes another reddish, bleeding grin.

"Yeah," he says. "Me, too."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Megamind jumps out of a dream of falling and fire with a violent, full-body twitch, then exhales slowly and swallows and waits for the world to settle down around him. Then he pushes himself up to sitting and slumps forward, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

The dreams are getting worse.

They'd been better for a long time, had nearly stopped for a while, but after Thanksgiving they had returned with a vengeance—he's pursued by a faceless shadow, he can't run fast enough, he can't fight it. The dreams start normally enough in the Lair, and sometimes they pass without incident, but when they don't he can always feel the shadow rising. He always arms himself before he flees but it never makes a difference; the weapons work fine but the shadow never even falters.

Once, he had turned and tried to face the shadow at his back. It had risen up and consumed him, and then he had been drifting through a vacuum picked with distant stars, silent and still and utterly alone. That time, a pale and worried Roxanne had shaken him awake. He had been screaming.

Shaking his head, he swings his legs down and shuffles his feet around until he finds his slippers, then grabs his robe from where it hangs on the bedpost. A glass of water will help; it always does. Once upon a time, he would have called for Minion to bring it to him, but recently he's discovered that the brief walk also does some good.

He sighs and closes the door carefully behind him, then pads down the dark hallway towards the kitchen. He sees well in the dark and even better in half-light, and besides, he knows the Lair like the back of his hand; he could walk it blindfolded.

The Lair is a different place at night than it is during the day. It's quiet. It's clean. It's cold and dark. It's home.

The kitchen door creaks when he opens it. The oil can is in the main room, probably with Achilles, the spiderbot—Megamind had been working on it earlier. He doesn't feel like going and finding it and maybe activating some of the brainbots hibernating outside the bot-cave, so instead he hunts around until he finds an almost-full bottle of vegetable oil in the corner cupboard. It's a quick fix, and soon the door swings silently.

The door taken care of, he puts the oil away. He has to crawl up on the counter to reach the cupboard where Minion keeps the glasses, a testament to how very rarely he uses the kitchen on his own. But the water tastes fine. Water is hard to mess up.

He leans against the sink and looks around the kitchen.

This room looks so out-of-place compared to the rest of the Lair. Minion had renovated it a while back and made it look the way _he_ had wanted—Megamind hadn't been pleased, but then, what could he say? The kitchen is not his room, so Minion had done exactly as he liked and put in red brick floors and tile walls and rough wood cabinetry. The stove is in a kind of recessed nook, also brick, which probably has a proper name that Megamind has never bothered to learn. The window has diamond-shaped panes and lace curtains. It's a light, airy place, clean and neatly organized, and therefore totally out of sync with the rest of the Lair.

He sips at his water and frowns at the empty corner opposite the refrigerator. He could put in a door there. Not _right_ there, not facing the refrigerator, but on the same wall as the window, on the other side of the table. And he could, maybe, add a patio, an outside dining area for when the weather is nice. Minion would like that and he's sure Roxanne wouldn't complain. What's the point of waterfront property if you never enjoy it?

_I'm feeling domestic_, he realizes suddenly. Last year, that thought would have sent him running for cover, scrambling to the drawing board to hatch some new and vicious scheme; now, it simply makes him clap a hand to his mouth to stifle his laugh. _Wow_.

His roving eye settles on the wall above the table, between the window and hypothetical door, and he reads again the cross-stitched verse that had taken Minion weeks to finish—one that Megamind has only very recently begun to understand.

_Every house where love abides_

_And friendship is a guest,_

_Is surely home, and home sweet home_

_For there the heart can rest_.

Isn't that what Minion has always said? Megamind had asked him over and over again when they had been building the Lair if he wouldn't rather just have their base of operations at home and Minion had always smiled and said, "Home is where the heart is, Sir. As long as you're there, I'm happy."

He looks around the dark kitchen, feeling unexpectedly comfortable. His crazy life has slowed down to a manageable pace. He only has maybe three or four meetings every week, most of which are even legal—he goes and talks to people, offers ideas about this, that, or the other thing, shakes hands, smiles, learns faces and names and takes mental notes on how to socialize, and then he comes back home and puzzles over how to fold the laundry until Minion comes and tells him how to do it properly.

And then sometimes he has to go and settle disputes between Lancaster and York. Hardly ever, though. They're getting pretty good about working things out on their own, which is good because Megamind is starting to think that the less he knows about illegal operations in Metro City, the better. Since that business with Maxence back in October, the police have called him a few times for advice and it's always awkward when he has to refuse to squeal on his associates. Right now, the favor he's fulfilling for Bernard is his only truly illegal project.

He turns and puts his glass in the sink, then shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe and shuffles back to his room, still frowning about the verse on the wall and domesticity. He doesn't realize that what he's doing is unusual until he's already settled back in bed, curled on his side facing Roxanne.

Usually when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he doesn't bother coming back to bed. Usually he just calls it a night and goes to work. When had that changed? And when had he started thinking of it as _coming_ back to bed rather than _going_ back to bed?

He doesn't know. But maybe that's all right. Maybe this is how it's supposed to feel? He doesn't know. He hates not knowing things. Flying blind is not easy for him.

Roxanne sighs a little and frowns in her sleep, mutters something unintelligible. Megamind half-smiles and gently brushes the hair away from her forehead; she pauses, then subsides.

It isn't easy, but it's worth it. _Home is where the heart is_, he thinks. As long as she's here—and Minion too—he's happy.


	2. Chapter 2

A big thank you to Pitbulllady from the Megamind Livejournal community. She posted art a while back of Megamind and Roxanne watching the aurora borealis from Ludington State Park, noting that it was just north of where Metro City would have been in real life. Her note gave me a much more accurate idea of where to start this road trip and how long it would take!

Fun fact: The road trip was not originally part of the story. This idea happened as I was finishing Hallows' Eve and Megamind went off about how fun a trip would be. WELP. Here we go. The way Megs and Roxanne are going is about 2500 miles, and everywhere they stay is a real place along the route. I'm not going to give exact locations, but rest assured, they all exist. Except for the rest stops. Tracking down rest stops was _hard_, and then I figured that driving times are relative if you drive like Megs.

And thank god for voice activation software. E-Speaking for windows seven is miles beyond the last software I tried. So I guess I'll be trying voice dictation now! We'll see how it goes. Last time I tried this it didn't go so well; the way I write is more like reading through my hands, so speaking the words I want to read instead of typing them is pretty much alien to me, but I imagine I'll get used to it. The wrists are feeling a lot better now!

As always, if I made any glaring typographical errors or continuity plotholes, please let me know. This chapter is fairly short, but the next one will be longer. I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Megamind glances over at Roxanne as they head out of town. He's taking the first shift of driving for two reasons—the first is that it's barely five AM and Roxanne is grumpy; the second is so that he'll be able to look more at the scenery later on. He hasn't been out of Metro City at all, hardly, and he's looking forward to this trip more than he'd like to admit.

"We got everything?" he asks. "Cooler, suitcases, sunscreen?"

"Snow tires," she yawns. "Spare tire, jumper cables. You remember to get the presents?"

"Yep. Finished your mother's this morning."

Handmade gifts from Megamind are nothing to sneeze at, but Roxanne is too tired to be very enthused. "What'd you make her?"

"Crossword puzzle. It's _gigantic_, wait 'til you see."

"She'll like tha-a-at." She yawns again and puts her seat back, stuffs her pillow in between the seat and the window and pulls the blanket she had brought with her up to her chin. "Imma sleep for a bit, 'kay?"

"And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

"Didn't say I was gonna _die_," she mumbles, and then she's out like a light, her breathing falling into the slow rhythm he has come to know so well.

He doesn't mind that she's asleep. Even as dark as it is outside, this is still already _amazing_—the further he gets from the city, the less traffic he runs into. Not that there was much to begin with; five AM doesn't see many people out and about even in a city the size of Metro, but solitary headlights slicing through the dark is still a new experience.

Roxanne burrows down into the seat and snugs the blanket closer, twisting onto her side. The car rumbles around her, Megamind is humming under his breath to her left. Outside the air is like ice, but in the car it's in the comfortable mid-sixties. Since she's come to live with him, she's acclimated to a slightly cooler range of temperatures than she had been used to before.

She starts awake with Megamind's hand on her shoulder. "Muh?" She pokes her head out from under the blanket and gets hit in the face by a blast of wintery air. Her door is open. Why is her door open? "_Flaah_," she hisses, and throws the blanket back over her head.

"Sorry to wake you," he whispers. "But come and see." Clever fingers undo her seat belt. "C'mon," he says again. "Come and see."

"Don' wanna," Roxanne says, but she sits up anyway, fumbling for her coat. Megamind bundles the blanket around her instead and pulls her to her feet, leads her away from the car. Her feet crunch on gravel, then grass, then stone.

She sniffs and rubs at her eyes, blinking at him. "Time's it?"

"Nearly eight. The sunrise is gorgeous, look."

She turns around and has to squint. "Don't see what's so special about it. And where _are_ we?"

"No," Megamind says patiently, turning her around to face the lake. "_Look_."

With the sunrise behind them, the sky in front is still a darker blue, the clouds pale grey. Lake Michigan is black, rolling against a beach lightly dusted with snow. "What?" Roxanne asks. "I'm sorry, I don't—"

"Close your eyes. We're at Grand Mere State Park."

Mystified and irritated, Roxanne does so. She starts counting heartbeats, loses track. Wind mumbles through pine trees behind her, water mutters a reply. She shivers.

"Now," Megamind says in her ear, "look again."

Roxanne sighs and opens her eyes, then has to catch her breath. The bottoms of the grey clouds have been painted over fiery pink and orange, their peaks curling every shade of blue against spatterings of bluer sky. The lake takes the burning panorama and reflects it upside-down, clouds like fingers straining into the depths.

"Okay," she says after a shocked few seconds. "Okay, that's. That's really something." The sun crests up behind them, then; a blinding gold highway opens up at Roxanne's feet and chases the horizon. She flinches in the sudden light, then looks at Megamind. "Okay, this is pretty cool."

He turns his head to look at her. When the sun hits his face from the side Roxanne nearly jumps away. "Holy shit your eyes are _glowing_."

He bursts into laughter, nodding. "Not really glowing, but they do reflect a bit when the light hits them at a sharp enough angle. Wanna go swimming?"

"I'm going to go with a great big 'hell no' on that one," she replies, shivering again. She can't stop staring at his eyes. _'Not really glowing,' indeed_.

Megamind shrugs and shucks off his coat. In the early light, Pavel's skin is much paler than usual—there's almost a blue cast to it, or is she imagining things? "I'm going to."

Roxanne tucks her hands under her armpits. "You will freeze and die."

He laughs again, stripping down to his shorts in record time. "Polar bear plunge," he exclaims, "and no, I won't. I told you: I'm built for colder temperatures."

"Colder temperatures does not mean thirty-degree water!" Roxanne cries, but Megamind is already halfway down the beach and splashing into the silvering water. He lets out a whoop as his feet go out from under him, then disappears under the waves.

He comes up again half a second later, flailing back towards the beach with big windmilling motions, teeth bared and eyes panicky-wide. "Oh that was a bad idea, that was a bad idea."

"Gee, you think?" Roxanne rolls her eyes and opens the blanket, folds him in against her chest. He's shaking, but he hums happily and wraps his arms around her waist. "You're a moron."

"Y-yes I am."

"And you're wet."

"I'm th-that too."

"You're getting _me_ wet."

"I regret nothing." Roxanne chuckles and pokes him in the side, making him jump. Megamind grins. "Back to the car?"

"Mm, I think so. 'S warmer in there, at least. Here, you take this." She hugs herself as Megamind draws the blanket like a toga around his thin frame, and only Megamind could manage to look regal in a tatty fleece blanket.

They turn, and then they freeze.

"Um," Roxanne says, just as Megamind draws himself up and says, "Ollo."

"_He_llo," she says reflexively, not looking away from the family of four who, judging by their expressions, are just as startled as they are.

"Yeah, but that's never gonna happen," he tells her, "so we're just going to go with, _hi there_, you're between me and the car and, heh," he laughs nervously, "I'm turning blue out here. So! Please excuse us!"

The little girl pulls away from her father and trots forward, picks up Megamind's sweater and trousers. "Did you go in the water?"

"Yes, I did. May I have those back? Thank you."

"Is it warm?"

"Not even a little bit." It's incredible, the way he lets his guard down around children. Talking to adult strangers is much easier now than it used to be, but usually he still has a hard time not falling back into the old villain persona. But kids are easy. "Listen, squirt, we've got a long drive ahead of us, so if you don't mind, we should probably get going."

"Um," says Roxanne again.

The little girl blinks solemnly up at Megamind. "You're a little bit blue."

"Told you I was." He winks, but his teeth are starting to chatter again. He grabs Roxanne by the hand and jogs towards the car, blanket flapping away from his skinny legs. The jog turns into more of a painful hopping dance when they hit the gravel parking lot.

Roxanne slams the car door behind her and Megamind turns the key in the ignition and throws it in gear, cranks up the heat. Roxanne cranks it back down again. "You should let the engine warm up first. It's an old car."

"It's also got entirely new internal workings," Megamind reminds her, and readjusts the heat. "Brrr, pass me my pants."

She does so, then toggles invisibility mode while he struggles into his pants—he has to lift off the seat, long body bowing out from ankles and shoulders as he tugs at the spandex to get it up over his hips—then wriggles into his shirt in a similar fashion. Megamind dressing without the help of brainbots is always a show.

"Are you good to keep driving for a while, or do you want me to take over?"

"Nng—umpf. I'm up for another few hours. We'll switch off when we need to stop for gas, does that sound good?"

"Sure. Where are we now?"

"Little less than three-quarters tank."

Roxanne shakes her head, exasperated. "You don't look at your watch, you don't need thermometers to tell how hot or cold it is, and now you don't even look at the dashboard?"

"And I have perfect pitch. But actually, I checked before we got out of the car." He looks over at her and smiles as he puts the car in gear.

"Perfect pitch, my left foot. I've heard you sing."

Megamind laughs. "Human vocalizations are not my forte."

She's always secretly delighted when he laughs like that—a _real_ laugh. And before she really knows what she's saying, she says, "I love when you laugh."

Startled, he looks over at her, grinning in confusion and amusement. "Wh-what?"

She colors. "I mean…I don't know what I mean. Ignore me, I'm being silly."

"…All right." But he's still half-smiling to himself as they pull back onto the highway, the giddy little smile he wears when she's surprised him with something nice.

She supposes his laughter is something special because of how long it was before she heard him laugh for real. She still remembers the first time, a few years after he'd started kidnapping her. It had been the kidnapping after he had rescued her from Carn-Evil, the idiot clown who hadn't known what he had been getting into. Megamind had left her alone for nearly two weeks before snatching her from the library on her day off—she had expected him to pick her up the next day, maybe the one after that, catch her off guard, but he hadn't.

"Not hurt, are you?" he'd asked without looking over at her when she had woken up, and she remembers thinking that was weird, him asking if she was okay. "After I dropped you at your place I thought that maybe I had squeezed you when I picked you up. Thought it might be best if you had some time off from kidnappings." He kicked off in his chair, spinning and sliding over to another console. "You all right?"

"Thanks to you."

Megamind had hummed and made an adjustment. "I was kind of disappointed, to tell you the truth. I follow all the up-and-comings, I expected more from him."

"It wasn't even a _good_ kidnapping," Roxanne had muttered. "'Roses are red, violets are blue, I have a gun, get in the van'? Who _says_ that?"

He had turned to blink at her, then snorted and burst out laughing. Roxanne remembers being surprised at how wide and white his smile had been and how it had made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I like you," he had observed when he'd stopped chuckling. "You make everything sound so _funny_."

It had been the very last time she'd ever feared him.

"Penny for your thoughts," he says now. So casual, so calm, as if driving down the highway with Roxanne unbound in the passenger seat is business as usual. And it _is_ business as usual, finally.

She hums happily and leans back in her seat. "Just remembering stuff."

"I am _sure_ we packed everything," he groans, exasperated. "Give Minion some credit."

"Not that kind of stuff," she says. "You and me kind of stuff. You really seem like you're doing better these days."

"Oh, that." He's definitely keeping an eye on traffic, but he's still so engaged. Smiling. Leaning back in his seat. He looks relaxed. "You know, I really _feel_ better these days. Still super-nervous about your mom, though."

"I know. Me too." She peers at him. "But you know, whatever she says, it won't make or break us."

"We're more than that." He glances over and smiles, and Roxanne can't stand it—she reaches, pulls his right hand off the wheel and tangles their fingers together. Megamind laughs again.

"What?" Roxanne asks. "Why, what's funny?"

"You are!" He shakes his head, still grinning. "You're so touchy-feely lately, it's great, I love it."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"Ever since that last big fight you've been really…I don't know, _cuddly_. Comfortable with me."

She blinks, utterly confused. "I always cuddle with you."

"In _bed_, yes," he agrees. "But I mean like when we're sitting on the couch reading or watching a movie, or…okay, remember how last week, as an experiment, I came and sat on your lap while you were keeping Minion company in the laundry? You put your arm around me to keep me there!" He beams at her.

"That was an experiment?"

"A lot of what I do is experimental in some way or other. But you wouldn't have done that in September."

He's right. She wouldn't have. "Well, I'm…I'm just feeling a lot better about us, I guess." She hadn't noticed any difference in the way she acts towards him, but now that he's mentioned it, she _has_ been a lot more comfortable lately.

Megamind chuckles. "It's okay, you don't need to explain." He squeezes her hand. "I know."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

She watches Megamind sprint a wide circle around the parking lot from where she stands by the gas pump. For all his slim frame and tightly-muscled limbs, he's not that fast. No faster than an average human. Somehow, she had expected him to be more of a runner; quick, sudden motions are part of how he moves.

He comes panting back to her, bright-eyed and grinning. "Breakfast?"

She replaces the nozzle. "You go ahead in, I'll park the car and meet you inside."

She clears her pockets of loose change into the battered paper cup proffered by the greybeard just outside the door of the rest area. It's Christmas, after all, or nearly. The old man mumbles a word and huddles deeper into his tattered coat, hunches back into the bench.

Roxanne hurries inside and finds her companion staring up at the menu, a perplexed frown camped on his features. "What's wrong?"

He purses his lips. "I don't know what's edible."

"I've eaten it before without dying. I'll just get you what I'm getting, okay?"

"Okay."

Roxanne is halfway through her egg-sausage muffin before she realizes he's just sitting and staring at his food. "What's wrong?" she says again.

Megamind doesn't look up. "I'm not actually sure if I'll be able to digest this," he says slowly. "This is, like, seventy percent corn. I can smell it."

She tilts her head, curious. "It's egg and sausage."

"And do you know what the chickens and pigs were fed? Corn. And it's all that high-fructose stuff. _Eurgh_." He picks up the Egg Thing and smells it—then gags and puts it down. "I can't. I can't eat this."

"Picky."

"I'm not _picky_. I can't eat it. It's not edible."

"Yes it is, look, I'm eating it and I'm fine." She swallows. "It's not _good_ for you, but it is food."

Megamind lifts his head and stares at her, torn between amusement and exasperation. "Do you not understand the difference between _can't_ and _won't?_" he asks, half-laughing. He glances down, then back up. "I _can't_ eat this," he says again, slowly and clearly. "My body won't be able to break it down."

She starts to laugh, but stops when his face remains honest. There's no trace of a smirk; he's not joking. "You can't be serious."

He smiles and gives a helpless shrug. "Something about processed sugars just doesn't sit well with me."

Roxanne stares back, fascinated. "You can't process high fructose corn syrup?"

"Usually I can, but not in such high concentrations, not so early in the day. It'll line my gizzard and I'll…reject it." He's being delicate. "In small doses, I can store it in my crop for a while and then I'm fine, but then it leaves a weird taste in the back of my mouth." He shrugs. "It's why we never have fast food at the Lair. When we do, it's always Chinese."

"What's different about Chinese?"

He pushes his food towards her. "Monosodium glutamate. It reacts with the acids in my stomach and gizzard and neutralizes whatever makes the HFCS so difficult for me. There's MSG in this, but not enough."

Roxanne shakes her head. "You are one weird son of a gun. What about all the donuts you're so wild about?"

"We get them from Giorgio's. He uses real sugar." Megamind makes a motion towards the Egg Thing. "All yours."

She throws her head back and laughs. "Are you kidding? I'm not eating two of these!"

"You're just going to waste it?"

Roxanne looks at it guiltily. They really shouldn't waste food. "Well…" She cuts off when Megamind suddenly pulls it away from her and wraps it back up with deft motions.

"Wait right here," he says, then picks up the re-wrapped Egg Thing and trots back up to the counter. Mystified, Roxanne watches him order a coffee and pluck a few creamers and packets of sugar out of labeled bins, then run out the door.

He's back in under a minute, grinning from ear to ear as he slides into the seat across from her. Both coffee and Egg Thing have both mysteriously evaporated. "Mission accomplished."

"Where did you go?"

He smirks. "It's a secret."

As Roxanne pulls away from the rest area, Megamind seated comfortably beside her with a cup of fruit and yogurt, she glances in the rearview mirror. She could be wrong—he's pretty far away—but the grey-haired man with the tatty jacket seems to be drinking a cup of coffee. There's something else different, too, but Roxanne's not sure what it is.

It's not until Megamind is shrugging out of his coat a minute or so later that she thinks to ask, "Hey, what happened to your scarf?"

"Oh dear," he says, his tone too casual. "I seem to have misplaced it."

She looks over at him, unable to hide her smile. "You're a good man, Charlie Brown."

He sniffs loftily. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Look, there's three more. How many have we seen so far?"

Megamind doesn't even open his eyes. "Eighteen thousand, nine hundred and two."

"Not trees. Wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube men."

"Wasn't counting trees," he murmurs. "We haven't seen eighteen thousand of those. Was counting the posts on the guard rails."

Roxanne glances over at him. "You're not even looking!"

"Don't have to look," he says calmly. "I know proportions and measurements and my calculations are exact. So, like I said, nineteen thousand and twenty-seven."

She laughs. "You are so full of shit."

His eyes pop open and he grins at her. It's the old grin—one of the old grins—the secret one with dancing eyes. It's the one that says he's laughing at her. "You sound so certain." He sits up. "Where are we? This doesn't look like a highway."

"It isn't. We're going to Coralville Lake, we'll stop for a while and have lunch." She half-smiles. "Mom and Drew and me always used to stop here. Sometimes in the summers we'd bring our bathing suits and go swimming."

He scowls. "This throws off my measurements."

Roxanne shrugs. "You dragged me out to a lake. I figure this is only fair." She tries to sound flippant, but really this is important to her and they both know it. The detour will add time to the trip and the first day is the longest, but she can't resist. She has too many childhood memories around this lake for her to just pass it by.

She doesn't take him all the way onto the peninsula, even though there would be picnic tables at the end of the road. Instead, she turns down the road that says 'campground' and parks at the end of the drive. There are no campers at this time this year, and the ranger station is obviously closed, but she pulls over and gets out and stretches while Megamind gets their lunches from cooler and rehydrates them. Then she says, "Come on, follow me," and turns and heads into the woods without looking for a trailhead.

Megamind blinks but follows. The ground is frozen solid, which is good because otherwise they might have been walking through muck, but that's the only small victory—the brambles catch on his pants and he finds himself stumbling more than once. The third time this happens, he has to stop to disentangle himself and calls ahead to Roxanne, more than a little bit irritated. "How are you not getting caught?"

She backtracks, laughing. "I'm sorry, I forgot you've probably never been in a woods in your life, have you? It's easy, really; watch me." She lifts her foot higher than usual and pushes the brambles to the ground, stepping carefully until she's over them. "The really tall ones are a little bit trickier, but just use your hands to brush them to the side and you'll be fine."

Megamind frowns dubiously but does as she suggests, and Roxanne leans him away again, moving more slowly than before. The going is still rough, but easier than it was. This is nothing like walking through Metro City or even over Metro City—this is slower and more confusing. Still, he's a fast learner, and even though his motions are somewhat flaily when they reach the reservoir, he's keeping pace with Roxanne.

She lets out a long sigh. "Here we are."

Megamind looks at 'here,' trying to figure out why it might be special. It doesn't _look_ special. It looks, he thinks, like a weed patch. The trees might have been pretty if they'd had leaves on, but it's the dead of winter right now and all he sees are brown trunks, brown shrubs, brown dirt, and a brownish semi-frozen lake. "There's nowhere to sit."

"Here." Roxanne beckons him over to a fallen log and sits down, straddling it and looking around. "Drew and I found this place ages ago. We were camping overnight and we were really bored, so we decided to go exploring. We'd had dinner already but it wasn't dark yet, and Drew made us a lean-to out of sticks. We ended up falling asleep out here. Scared the hell out of my parents." She looks up at him. "What kind of sandwiches?"

Megamind just stares at her for a moment, then jumps. "Oh! Um. Looks like…ham and cheese for you and peanut butter marshmallow for me." He hands her the sandwich and sits down facing her. He looks around. "It's so quiet. It's unnerving."

"You weren't bothered by the other lake being quiet."

"The other lake wasn't so far from the highway. I could still hear cars. What if there's a bear?"

The question is so unexpected that she has to laugh. "Megamind, all the bears are asleep."

"You think it's safe for me to take off the disguise generator?" he asks. "This place looks pretty deserted."

Roxanne looks uncomfortable. "It's probably safe, but you should really get used to keeping it on. I don't like it any more than you do, but…"

Privately, he's pretty sure she likes it even _less_ than he does. He is used to the disguise generator, and although wearing it for extended periods makes him feel strange and out of sorts if he looks down at his hands too often, it does make him feel safe. "You're right. I'll just leave it on. Okay, what are we doing here?"

She cocks her head at him. "What do you mean?"

"We've gone out of our way to a remote patch of woods by a lake you haven't visited since you were, what, sixteen?" He quirks a smile. "Something's up."

"Nothing's up." The wind decides to make its presence known, and Roxanne pulls her coat tighter around her. "I just have a lot of happy memories here. It was one of the few places where I knew the family would be all together. You don't ever visit places from your childhood?"

"They aren't so much 'visits' as 'incarcerations.'" He sighs. "I guess I kind of know what you're talking about. Happy times. Mostly I just wish I could visit people."

"People?" She frowns. "What people?"

He shrugs. "Like Dan. He taught me to swim before he was transferred out. And Mitch and Guduza. I wish I knew what happened to Uncle Bill. Ty used to carry me along when he played basketball in the yard so I could slam dunk for him." His grin softens to a smile and he looks out at the lake. "Everybody knew that if I could make the shot, he could have made the shot. He's the current Duke of York now. And Poindexter, who used to check my math."

Roxanne is staring at him. He's still gazing at the lake. "There's a lot I wish I could take back," he admits. "I burned a lot of bridges when I decided to become a villain. But I had a good first few years."

She's quiet for a moment. What is this like, for him? She knows she'll never fully understand how strange his life right now must seem—he freely admits that he had given up on ever having a normal life, on ever settling down with somebody. Where was it going to end? It had to end someday. He's told her before that this is the first time he's done something right that kept being right, this is the first time it hasn't blown up in his face, but she can't understand what that means, not really.

She stands and takes a few steps towards the forest, then looks back. He sits, pale and dark-haired, in his dark coat and jeans and boots, on a brownish log, looking out at a frozen lake. His gloved hands loosely hold the waxed paper that had wrapped around his sandwich, and hair and paper move in a sudden wind. For a moment, very briefly, he looks like an old photograph. Are there pictures of him as a child? She has to wonder.

He hasn't gone empty-eyed and still on her like this in a while. It's surreal, really—he's usually so lively. But then, they haven't talked about his childhood in a while, either. This isn't going to be an easy trip in more ways than one, she realizes; it's going to bring a lot of things to light that he'd probably rather not think about. There's so much she still doesn't know about him.

Then he turns his head, looks at her, and smiles. Rises to his feet and stuffs the wax paper into his pocket.

He holds out a hand. "Shall we?"

She takes it. "We shall."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They pull into the hotel at around six thirty that evening, after nearly fifteen hours of driving. It's a Super 8 Motel, not exactly luxurious, but they both collapse on the bed as soon as they're in the door, exhausted.

"How," Megamind mutters after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling. "How can driving possibly be so strenuous?"

Roxanne groans. "Man was never meant to sit on his ass for that long."

"Yes, but what about _me?_"

She rolls her head to the side and blinks at him only to find that he is blinking seriously back at her. They look at each other for maybe two seconds before Megamind's lips curl up at the corners, which makes Roxanne snort, which sets him off, which sets _her_ off, and before they know what's going on they're both laughing so hard they can barely breathe.

"Oh god," Roxanne gasps. "I am really tired."

"We are in the middle of nowhere," Megamind wheezes. "We're in the middle of nowhere, we had dinner two hours ago, and I'm hungry. We have done nothing all day; how can I possibly be hungry?" He's lying on his back, both arms spread out to either side. He scrubs one hand down his face, then lets his arm flop back onto the bedspread. "Where are we going to find somewhere to eat?"

Roxanne shrugs. "We can always eat tomorrow's launch out of the cooler," she suggests. "That would be safe." She is remembering breakfast.

"But we wouldn't have anything for lunch tomorrow," he points out, "unless we stopped on the way, and I don't know that I want to add an hour to driving the way we did today."

"On the other hand, I really don't feel like getting back into the car."

"Me either."

She sits up with a groan. Maybe they can skip lunch if the driving isn't too long. "Where are we sleeping tomorrow?"

"I am not your encyclopedia, you know."

"As if I would ask an encyclopedia where I'm sleeping tomorrow." She smirks at him and he rolls his eyes. "Somewhere in Colorado, right?"

"Yes, and I'm still not telling you where, so don't ask."

"I won't. How long will it take to get there?"

"Probably around eleven hours, if I drive most of the way," he tells her. "Seriously, though, I want to get there with some daylight left."

She nods slowly. "Okay. Then we should save the sandwiches until tomorrow. You think this hotel offers room service?" She doesn't sound very hopeful, and when Megamind wrinkles his nose, she laughs. "You know, we could just go hungry. Nothing wrong with being a little hungry for a night."

Megamind nods. "Yes. This is true." He rolls over with a groan and rests his cheek on his arms and closes his eyes. A few seconds later, he yawns. Then he smiles when he feels warm hands on his shoulders. "Mmm."

"Don't tell me the master of all villainy is _sleepy_," Roxanne smiles, slowly rubbing knots out of tight muscles. "And here I thought evil never sleeps."

"I think you're a bad influence on me," he mumbles. "The master of all villainy has got used to putting his head down once in a while. Lower, please. Yes. There."

Roxanne chuckles. "Okay."

A minute or so later, he sighs. "You are entirely too good to me."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm not," he says. He certainly _sounds_ serious enough. "I'm not. If I could go back in time and tell myself fifteen years ago that this would happen—that the girl of my dreams would be driving across the country with me so that she can introduce me to her mother, and that someday I would be lying on a bed in a hotel room getting the best backrub of all time from the aforementioned dream girl—" Roxanne laughs at that, "—I'd never believe me." He pauses. "Even ten years ago. Even five."

Roxanne half-smiles. "How about two years ago?"

Megamind rolls over and lifts a hand to touch her cheek. "I've wasted so many years just—"

"Stop." She turns her head and quickly kisses his palm, then catches his hand in hers and squeezes. There will be time for this conversation, but not now. Not here, and not now. They are both too tired. "There's no guarantee that it would have worked out like this if we'd met earlier. If we went to the same school, who knows what our relationship would be? I might not have liked you at all. You had to put on a _mask_ to get me to realize how much I trusted you already."

"I didn't have to," Megamind mutters. "That's just how it happened."

"I guess we'll never know, will we?" She curls up on the bedspread, lying halfway on top of him with her chin on her hands on his chest. "Don't say you've wasted your time. We're here now, aren't we? Nobody's ever told what would have happened."

His mouth tugs to the side and he points at her. "Don't you quote C.S. Lewis at me, young lady."

She smiles. "I'd do it all again, you know. You're my beautiful blue man and I wouldn't trade you for anything."

He closes his eyes and puts his arms around her with a sigh. She really does make him unutterably happy—so happy it hurts, when she smiles at him a certain way or laughs at something he says. Sometimes she looks at him and that old stone crawls into his throat and just refuses to move.

He remembers a not so long-ago day in the park, lying next to Roxanne and thinking, _I'm going to miss this_. It's funny, now he feels like he can't bear to lose it. Logically, rationally, he knows that's insane—how many men stay with the first women they date? How many women go home with the bad guy? How often do villains find happy endings? Logically, rationally, he knows there's no reason it should work—except that they've known each other for what feels like forever and so far have been compatible every way but physically, and even _that_ isn't much of a barrier.

Logically, rationally, _they_ shouldn't make sense—but they do. He's finally been able to stop feeling so desperate around her, he's finally letting himself settle in and get comfortable with her. It's wonderful and it's new and it's a little bit scary, because what if he gets hurt?

Well, and what if _she_ does? She's taking the same risk.

And that's what love is, he thinks. It's taken him years, but he's finally beginning to understand: love is giving someone the tools to hurt you and trusting that they won't do it. It is wonderful and a little bit scary. It is the greatest thing he will ever learn.

He rouses himself. "Woman," he says, "you always settle in and get all comfy and then I have to make us move. Come on, up. If we're going to nap at seven o'clock, we're going to sleep for a while. PJs and teeth, gorgeous girl."

She raises her head. "I have an idea. How about we go to sleep, and then when you wake up four hours from now like you always do, you wake _me_ up and we go to that IHOP we passed a few miles back for a midnight snack. Yeah? And _then_ we'll brush our teeth and go to bed for real, okay?"

He smiles at her. "You have the best ideas."

Together they wriggle into the middle of the bed and under the covers. Megamind reaches over and turns out the light, and they fall against each other and down into exhausted sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Pretty much all the fun road trippy things in this chapter are the result of people giving me ideas. Karen B Jones, especially. Thank you, seriously. I have had NO idea what to have them do on this trip. I mean, zero ideas. Chapter 4 has more fun road trippy things; I already had this one mostly drafted when I posted Chapter 2, so there wasn't a whole lot of room to insert fun road trippy things in here. (And yet somehow it still takes me over a month to post this one…sorry, folks.)

So, fun fact: the voice software I'm using has two ways that it recognizes the word PHED. I can either spell it out, P-H-E-D, or I can sniff into my microphone. PHED. Like that. PHED. If if if if if PHED. Okay, so sniffing will either give me 'if' or PHED. PHED. If PHED. I am so wildly amused by this you have no idea. I'll let you know what happens if I ever sneeze.

This chapter jumps around a _lot_, but it's kind of supposed to. I've put in the times for anyone who is interested and to give the sense that this is an actual trip, because me and my very good buddy Google Maps have gotten _really close_ over the past month or so and it would be a shame not to share all the fun we're having with you. You know how I've been finding places for them to go? By scrolling along the road that GMaps tells me they're going to take with the 'pictures' option turned on. So yeah, me and the GMaps, we're tight. Unfortunately, I am not friends with time zone differences, so if I've miscalculated, let me know.

Still no word from Dreamworks re: my request that they gift me the rights to all things Megamind, so I'm going to assume that they haven't done that and I still own nothing.

Hey, you remember when I said I was gonna do shorter chapters? HILARIOUS.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**York, Nebraska  
****8:34 AM Eastern Standard Time  
****7:34 AM Central Standard Time**

"What are you thinking?"

He tears his gaze away from the blindingly white Nebraska landscape flying past outside and squints over at Roxanne. "Hm?"

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Which one?" He laughs. "I have so many."

She chuckles. "Tell me one of the background thoughts."

He grins. 'Background thoughts' is Roxanne's name for the trains of thought that run rampant in the back of his mind at all times. He usually doesn't direct them if he isn't working on a specific project; he finds that he's better able to brainstorm when he needs to if he lets the streams of low-level plotting wander where they will on his off days. "I'm cataloguing the caffeine-to-liquid ratios of various black teas and comparing them to different blends of coffee. So far, coffee's still ahead."

"You're just biased."

"That may be," he agrees affably.

There's a brief pause. Then Roxanne says, "Tell me a story."

"What?" He blinks at her. "I don't tell stories."

"I bet you know a lot of them, though. You read so much." She glances over and smiles. "Come on, tell me a story. A good one."

He shrugs. "O-okay. What kind of story?"

"Any kind."

It's been a long time since he's read anything that could be called a story, and he's at a loss. Flailing a little bit, he spits out the first thing that pops into his head without thinking: "_Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato prof_—"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there," Roxanne interrupts, sounding like she's trying not to laugh, "and remind you for the umpteenth time that _I don't speak Latin_."

"Oh," Megamind says, feeling very silly. "Right. Yes. S-so we'll just ignore the _Aeneid_, shall we?"

"Unless you can translate it into English on the fly, that's a good idea."

Megamind is not good at translating off the top of his head, which rules out most of his vast store of folklore in addition to the _Aeneid_ and _Oedipus Rex_. As far as English goes, he's sure she doesn't want Shakespeare. "You're going to have to give me some kind of criteria or I'm going to tell you about string theory, and nobody wants that."

She laughs again. "What stories grabbed your attention as a kid? What did you like to read? Poetry, short stories? Novels?"

"No, you don't understand," he says, "that doesn't narrow it down." _A good story_, he thinks, _a children's story—heroes and battles and swords? I don't know any little girls' stories. Would she even want one of those?_ He scowls in frustration at the realization that he doesn't even know what constitutes a normal little boy's story and decides to abandon that line of thought. "Look, just…give me a genre. Sad, happy? _Anything_."

She thinks for a minute, scrunching up her nose a little. "Oh, I don't know. A sad story. With love in it. I'm kind of a hopeless romantic, you may have noticed. I try to hide it, but—"

"Under your utterly humorless exterior, you mean?" He grins and settles back in the chair, nodding. "Okay. I think I know one. Uncle Dexter read it to me when I was small, and—well. Poetry isn't my usual, but…anyway…" He takes a deep breath and launches into it, feeling _unbelievably_ stupid but resolved to do his best.

"On either side the river lie long fields of barley and of rye, that clothe the wold and meet the sky, and through the field the road runs by to many-towered Camelot." He closes his eyes, remembering the stammering voice, the thick spectacles, the shy smile, and focuses on the memory rather than the intense feeling that what he's doing is incredibly silly.

Roxanne is quiet. She hadn't expected this particular story, hadn't expected that he would choose Tennyson of all things, hadn't ever thought of this as a story instead of just a poem with a plot, hadn't expected that his voice would suit poetry at all—let alone so well. His broad inflection lends itself to the scenery, his enunciation is clear. He's obviously reciting, but still, he manages to make it flow.

He paints her the story of a woman cursed to live her life alone, watching the world pass by in a mirror aimed at the window behind her, weaving a tapestry of what little she sees in the glass, trapped on the inside looking out. Roxanne had forgotten this poem. She can't even remember now what class she'd needed to read it for, or whether it had been in university or high school, but she does remember that she had thought it was lonely.

"But in her web she still delights to weave the mirror's magic sights, for often through the silent nights a funeral with plumes and lights and music went to Camelot. Or when the moon was overhead, came two young lovers lately wed—'I am half-sick of shadows,' said the Lady of Shalott."

The story changes in her mind, and she can't help the wry smile that twists her mouth—when he had said 'poetry,' she'd half-expected him to start in on _The Raven_. It would have fit her criteria, but no—she had asked for a story, and Megamind had chosen _The Lady of Shalott_.

_I am half-sick of shadows_.

"It's a beautiful poem," she says when he finishes. "You tell it really well. I don't think I ever really understood it before." She means that she'd only ever thought it was sad and lonely, but she'd never really _thought_ about it.

"What's not to understand?" he asks, astonished. "Pretty transparent, I think. She's trapped in this tower—she's stuck apart from the world, forced to content herself with only ever watching until she finally snaps. She sees Lancelot and she just—she _wants_ that, so _badly_, and she just can't help herself, and she snaps."

"Like you?" The words are out before Roxanne can stop them. Megamind looks at her, surprised.

"Well," he says after a long moment, "I never snapped. Not quite."

"Never snapped?" She has to laugh. "You spent _how_ many years as a supervillain?"

He colors. "That was me _not_ snapping. That was me staying _sane_."

She glances over, frowning a little. She had meant her comments in jest, but he doesn't sound like he's joking. "Are you being serious?"

He hesitates, then gives a jerky, awkward nod. "Rebelling the way I did was…_unconventional_, I know, but it was the only thing I could think to do that would let me lash out and use my considerable intellect at the same time. I was going _crazy_ in that school, forced to follow a curriculum aimed at lesser minds—no offense," he adds hastily, "but seriously, I was running circles around everybody else."

"Why _did_ you stay in school?" she asks. "I've always wondered that."

"It was part of the warden's 'arrangement' with the PHED." His lip curls a little. "If they were going to treat me like an ordinary human, I had to be raised like one. No special allowances except for me staying at the prison—they wanted to minimize my potential for trouble as much as possible." He sighs and looks out the window. "Anyway, I got really _good_ at being a villain. I enjoyed it. And it had been so long since I'd enjoyed anything that I…I just kept going. Metro Dude was there to keep me under just enough control that the government stayed off my back through high school, so when the PHED took Minion I already had some experience and I was able to really…expand my core competencies, shall we say?"

She chuckles, and he looks at her, one eyebrow crawling quizzically upward.

"Nothing. I just—I'm starting to realize that there's so much about you I still don't understand." She's smiling, though, so she can't mean it like it's a bad thing—can she?

"I could attempt to clarify something, if you want," he offers, confused, but she shakes her head.

"No. It's okay." She laughs. "I know this must sound weird, but sometimes the only way you can really _appreciate_ something is by not understanding it at first. Or by understanding it from a completely aesthetic viewpoint, like with music. Or poetry, I guess." She shakes her head. "It's like—losing something in translation, maybe? You," she says, "you translated who you are into a bouncy, cackling madman, and while that translation of you was really fun and I liked him, it never occurred to me that I could ever love him. All the little intricacies of who you are were still there, but they got sort of lost in translation."

She lets out another short, embarrassed laugh. "But I don't think I'd be having _nearly_ as much fun with you now if you'd grown up into a normal adult. I appreciated the villain you _first_, and I still see that side of you sometimes, but there's so much _more_ to you than that and I think what really amazes me is that you can be the man who puts on the show, who _runs_ the show, and still be the guy who comes home after the show and wants nothing more than to curl up with a hot coffee and play with his man-toys. I'm still trying to figure out who you really are.

"Also, you sounded like the old you for a minute there—the 'expanding competencies' thing—and it made me go all nostalgic for the bad old days."

"Oh," he says, and draws himself up a little bit, unsure about where to go with any of what she just said. "I apologize?"

"No, no!" She shakes her head, coloring slightly. "No, it was—nice. Sometimes I almost miss the old you. My supervillain."

"I beg your pardon," he replies stiffly, trying to conceal the fact that he's secretly delighted, "I was not _your_ supervillain."

"Oh, yes you were," she scoffs, grinning. "I was your kidnappee, and you were my supervillain, and Minion was our comic relief and Wayne was our hero, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. I wouldn't have changed a thing."

His eyes light up. "Really? Not anything?"

"It brought us here," she tells him. "Why would I want to change that?"

He's quiet for a while, looking down at his hands twisted in his lap—Pavel's one persistent hangnail that he can't program out of the disguise and keeps forgetting doesn't actually exist still annoys him; whoever Pavel's face actually belongs to had otherwise perfect nails and the tiny red mark is just too out of place. Then he says, "You know we're going to be in trouble when we get back to Metrocity." He frowns. "Metro _City_."

"Because we're together, you mean."

"I've been in limbo up until now," he elaborates, still not looking at her, tugging on that stupid hangnail. Never mind that it's not really there and he can't feel it. "Politically speaking. _Publicly_ speaking. But this, us, together, this is going to bring everything crashing down. You know that, right?" He isn't quite sure how to make her understand, but he hasn't brought this up before and it needs to be said. He also isn't quite sure how she's going to take it; she tends to take offense to any suggestion that she might someday want to leave him and Roxanne on the defensive makes him feel shaky. "They're going to question all of it, I'm going to be investigated, people will want interviews, the whole nine yards. And I've been trying to think how to respond to it all, and I just can't think of anything. And there's the whole Metro Man thing…"

Roxanne nods. She knows. She's been thinking about it too, off and on over the past few months. "They'll accuse you of killing him."

"They'll want justice done," he says with a helpless shrug, "and I don't blame them. A full pardon? Those are just words, really." Megamind, of all people, knows how empty words truly are. And what power they can hold if wielded properly, whether they're true or not. That's the tough part, really: truth and public opinion very rarely function together.

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know." He finally looks over at her, hoping she might at least have an idea. "I just don't know."

She wets her lips and says what they both are thinking. "You could ask him to come out of hiding—"

"_No_," he says immediately, "I can't ask him to do that. They'll kill him. They'll want me dead, but they'll _kill_ him, whether they mean to or not. He'll have to come back someday, he and I have discussed it, but not yet. He isn't ready. I mean," he stammers, suddenly aware that he's starting to babble, "he's even _offered_ to come out of hiding, but anyone can see—no. I can't do that to him. I can't. Please don't ask me to."

"I won't," she assures him, "I won't ask. It was only a suggestion; I know how you are about him." She isn't sure what's gotten into Megamind's head about Wayne, but he's surprisingly protective of the ex-hero—he told her once that he feels responsible for what had happened to him, and after some thought she's decided she can understand that. Wayne is certainly responsible for a lot of Megamind's childhood isolation, but the latter was the driving factor in Wayne's isolation as an adult, his rise to superheroism. If not for the constant scheming, he might never have become as much of a hero as he had.

"Megamind." She frowns at the road ahead. "Whatever else happens, you know I'm with you, right?"

He looks at her and exhales slowly through his nose, and that more than anything else tips her off that he has some kind of motive for bringing this up. He only does that when conversations aren't going the way he wants. "I know," he says quietly. "But just so you know, if it gets to you, if it gets to be too much and you have to leave, I _will_ understand."

"It's not gonna happen, Megs—"

"But _if it does_," he snaps, sharply enough that she blinks and glances over, "I will understand. Just take that at face value, all right? I'm not asking for reassurance; I am _trying_ to tell you that if the bad publicity and hate ends up being too much and you're unhappy, if you have to leave, I will understand."

She can't look at him, so maybe that's why she doesn't just leave it where it sits—also, what's up with him cutting her off in midsentence and then nearly taking her head off? "How can you _possibly_ understand something like that? I'd be abandoning you. I'd be _quitting_."

"I've been there. I know what that's like—"

"_Look_," she says, "I've already told you I'm not going to leave you. Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Because you aren't being _rational!_" he snarls, and that's when she starts to get angry. "_Think_ for a minute, I know it's hard for you, but _try_. What if something happens and you decide that you don't _want_ to be with me anymore? It happens all the time. It's the number one leading cause of breakups: one party decides they don't want to be with the other! It's that simple!"

"Don't you pull the 'I'm smarter than you' card on me," she warns. "Not unless you're _trying_ to piss me off."

He backs off a little. "Okay. Sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"You did," she says flatly, "but apparently you're mad at me now and that makes it okay."

Irritatingly pinkish fingers clench in the image of denim. "Roxanne, don't…"

"Oh, whatever. Look, the point is, it's not gonna happen."

And he flares right back up. "_But it could!_ We might discover that we're totally incompatible after all. The fact that I'll never be able to sire children with you could be a deal-breaker. If you were _anybody_ else, the fact that _Minion_ will always be with us could have torn us apart weeks ago!" He flops his hands into his lap and stares at her. "For heaven's sake, Roxanne. It is possible that someday we might not be together. Do you understand that? You are being completely irrational!"

She nearly yells at him for that one, but takes a deep breath instead with some effort. "I agree," she says, in a measured, even tone, "that it is physically possible for me to tell you I don't love you anymore. But it's really unlikely, okay? And yes, I am being rational about it. The way we've been living for the past two months? I have no complaints." The next bit slips out before she can think. "I can see us living that way for the next thirty years."

His head turns so fast she's surprised he doesn't get a crick in his neck. "Are you _proposing?_"

"What?" She very nearly swerves. "No!"

"_Good_," Megamind says fervently. When she sends him a questioning glance, he flushes to the tips of his ears. "B-because I kind of wanted to be the one to do that. If, you know, that ends up happening. I'm not _promising_ anything, or whatever, I'm just—" He turns, if possible, even redder. "I'm just not going to say anything else for a little while."

She's laughing. She can't help it. This is why she loves him: they're snapping at each other, both of them indignant and defensive, and then all of a sudden he says something and she's laughing. "I'm just saying. I'm happy with you and I'm a stubborn sonuvagun. I cannot _imagine_ public disapproval being enough to change my mind about you."

He smiles at her and nods.

"You can talk, you know," she prompts, grinning, but he shakes his head.

"No, anything else I say at this point is just going to be digging myself a deeper hole." Suddenly he brightens. "Can I veto this conversation topic?"

"For how long?"

He raises and lowers thin shoulders, the moss-green projection of a turtleneck pulling tight across his collarbones. "Twenty-four hours? I declare a twenty-four hour moratorium on any discussion of—um—"

"Proposals? Weddings?"

"Yes. Those."

She bumps a fist into his shoulder. "Well, since you don't appear capable of talking about them anyway…I guess that's okay."

He lets out a dramatic sigh of relief and grabs her hand before she can pull it back, squeezes it. Brushes his thumb across the underside of her wrist. "Thank you." Grins wickedly. "Tell me a story?"

She outright cackles and extracts her hand so she can put it back on the wheel. "No. No, no no. I do _not_ tell stories."

"Neither do I, but you got me to recite Tennyson." He raises his eyebrows at her. "I think you owe me one."

"No, I mean, I can't even tell jokes. I'm a terrible storyteller." She shakes her head.

He sighs, but grins. Then he settles back in his seat, wiggles for a moment, and leans the seat back a little. He folds his hands comfortably over his stomach. "The year 1866 was signalized by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten," he says. She shoots him a bewildered look, but he just smirks at her.

"Megamind, what are you _talking_ about?"

"Shh," he says, holding a finger to his lips. Green eyes dance, and Pavel's mouth curls into Megamind's mischievous smile. "I am telling you a _story_."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**Sedgwick, Colorado  
****1:35 PM EST  
****11:35 AM Mountain Standard Time**

They stop for lunch at a café that, as far as either of them can tell, is in the middle of nowhere. The letters on the red roof tell them it's Lucy's Place, little else—the signs painted on the windows are better but not by much. _Meet your friends at_. _Welcome to_.

"And you're sure I can eat this stuff," Megamind is saying as they walk inside.

Roxanne rolls her eyes at him, clenching and unclenching her cold hands in her pockets. She had been rummaging through the trunk in the parking lot, digging for the camera bag she had accidentally buried under what seemed like all of their stuff. "For the last time, yes."

"But how do you _know?_"

A cheerful voice calls out from behind the register, "Go on and take a seat wherever, be right with you!"

They sit in one of the two available booths by the window, and the waitress is indeed right with them, smiling and asking if she can get them something to drink.

"Water, thank you," Megamind says.

"I'll have a soda, whatever's closest," Roxanne tells her. She's sitting on her hands, trying to warm her fingers.

"Gotcha, we'll surprise you. Our specials today are the buffalo burger and the chicken-fried steak, okay?"

Megamind looks around. Aside from the booths by the front and side windows, there's a counter with some stools and a row of benches down a long table in the middle of the room. That's all. It's not a very big place, but for all that it certainly is busy.

"Watch out for the pits in the cherry pie," Roxanne murmurs, and he looks at her.

"Sorry?"

"That sign on the wall. I guess there are pits in the cherry pie."

"Huh," he says.

The waitress is back with their drinks. Roxanne's is a terrific shade of orange. "Get your orders, or you still need a minute?"

"You all use real sugar, right?" Megamind asks. "Not that processed stuff?"

"That's right, we do things home-style here."

"In that case, I'll have the chicken-fried steak," Roxanne says, and looks across the table at her companion.

"I don't know what that is," he admits.

The waitress raises her eyebrows in surprise. "It's Heaven fried and covered in milk gravy, sweetheart," she tells him. "Best thing for you in the middle of winter like this—keep you from turning blue out there."

His lips twitch. "In that case, I think I'd better have one of those."

Lunch is uneventful, conversation is light. Both Roxanne and Megamind are in considerably higher spirits. He is quick to laugh and quicker to smile, teasing her mercilessly about anything and everything, more relaxed than she has seen him in a long time regardless of their earlier disagreement.

They pay their bill and get up to leave, only to be chased back into their seats by their waitress, who makes it cheerfully but abundantly clear that they aren't leaving without cake. Megamind asserts that since she's dragged them so unceremoniously back inside, the only way they can possibly retaliate is to insist that she take a picture with the two of them. A man with a green baseball cap and an enormous walrusy mustache agrees to do the honors.

The camera flashes, and, laughing, they take the camera from the mustachioed man's shaking hands and make their escape without looking at how the photo turned out, waving to their waitress as they exit the restaurant and head back to the car.

"He was really staring at you, did you notice?" Roxanne says as she gets in and starts the car.

"Who?"

"The guy who took our picture. He was watching you all the way to the car." She sends him a questioning glance. "You didn't see?"

Shrugging, Megamind stows the camera under his seat. "I'm sure it's fine. It's not like the disguise generator failed—although, really, I'm sort of surprised we've made it this far without any strange disasters."

"Those do tend to find us with alarming frequency," she agrees. "How far did Lucy say the gas station was from here?"

"Thirty miles or so," Megamind says as Roxanne stops, waiting for an opening in the traffic. He inhales and looks like he's about to shout something—but stops himself at the last minute.

"What?"

He blushes. "It is at this juncture that I would ordinarily tell Minion to punch it."

Roxanne laughs, and, shaking her head, punches it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**Sterling, Colorado  
****2:09 PM EST  
****12:09 PM MST**

Everything at the gas station starts off as usual, except for the extremely sluggish, out-of-season wasp that Roxanne has to shoo out her window as they pull in. Megamind stretches his legs and back, bending every which way until she's certain he can't possibly bend any further or risk falling over, then follows her into the station. He rants for a few seconds about the casino machines, about probability and counting cards and vector lines, and they briefly go their separate ways before heading back out to the car.

It's funny, Roxanne will think later, that if her traveling companion hadn't stopped to yell about the machines or had yelled for a little bit longer, or if she hadn't ignored Megamind's disparaging noises and stopped at the counter to pick up a postcard for Minion, nothing might have happened. As it is, his earlier comment about 'strange disasters' turns out to be slightly prophetic.

Maybe it's the antique car that catches his attention. Maybe he sees something in Pavel's quiet appearance that ticks him off. Maybe he's just having a really bad day. Roxanne isn't sure. But when Megamind glances over at the man lounging against one of the fake hitching posts in front of the building, he spits out his cigarette and squares his shoulders. "What're you looking at?"

Megamind's hand closes around her elbow. "Come on," he mutters. "Just walk faster."

He turns and starts for the car, but big-and-ugly calls after him, "Hey! Hey man, don't you walk away from me!"

He sighs and stops moving. "What are you doing?" Roxanne hisses. "I thought we were walking faster?"

"The car's too far away and he's got friends between it and us," he replies in a low voice.

"So what do we do?"

"Stay behind me and don't say anything." Then he turns around, raises his voice. "C'mon, man. You don't want trouble."

"Yeah, Tiny? I think I do want trouble, what you think about that?"

He watches him approach, raising his hands as the man steps forward, but when he speaks he doesn't sound nervous at all. "I think if you really want it, I can bring it."

"Ha!"

Roxanne's stomach turns over—are they really going to fight? Should she do something? What can she do?

Big-and-ugly starts to lift his fists, but then Megamind moves.

He strikes first, ducking forward and hitting the man repeatedly in the face, making him stumble back. He recovers and swings but Megamind bats his arm to the side in a tight, circular sweep that turns into something like a fencing thrust and ends in a sickening crunch.

Big-and-ugly lets out a pained sound and flails, catching Megamind a glancing blow before crumpling to his knees, clutching his arm. Megamind whirls and grabs Roxanne by the wrist, pulling her away. He jogs with her to the car, and okay, _now_ she sees the two other guys sidling quickly towards them, coats buttoned up to their chins. She slides into the passenger seat and he closes the door after him—but the window's still down, and suddenly there's a knife pressed to Megamind's neck under his ear, above his scarf.

At this point, several things happen very quickly.

Megamind snaps the door back open, grabbing the guy's wrist in one hand and shoving it backwards against the inside edge of the window as he does so, then shunts the door open wider to dislocate his would-be assailant's shoulder as he steps out of the car. The man starts to yell, but Megamind already has his mouth and chin with his other hand. He jerks the thick chin around to the side as he lets go of the man's captive wrist, then slams his elbow into the base of the man's neck as he goes down. He doesn't get up again.

Then Megamind has to turn around fast, because the third guy is coming up behind him. Guy Number Three is built like a tank and swings with a haymaker, but Megamind ducks in and hits him across the face with the sharp bone of his elbow, leaving a line of blood behind. Three stumbles but recovers. From where Roxanne is sitting, there's no finesse or fancy moves anymore, just a flurry of open palms and closed fists, feet trying to trip each other up.

It's over quickly, only a few seconds, but those drag on like an eternity. Then Three swings and Megamind grabs him by the hand, twists hard, and drags him around using the captive arm as a lever and brings his knee up to slam into Three's ribcage. He doubles over and Megamind follows him down, drumming his fists on the side of his head all the way to the ground, then strikes him twice in the ear with the side of his forearm before diving back into the car and slamming the door.

He turns the key in the ignition and proceeds to leave two lovely black streaks of rubber on the parking lot on his hasty exodus to the highway.

"_What the hell was that?_" Roxanne says shrilly after a brief moment of stunned silence. "What. What the hell?"

"That," says Megamind, breathing hard through his nose, "was thoroughly irritating. Can you take the wheel for a minute?"

Roxanne reaches over to steer while he turns off the watch and pulls up his sleeve to inspect his arm. "_Damn_," he says. "I'm more out of practice than I thought. It wasn't even a _gun_. Man, I liked this sweater, too."

"Are you hurt?"

"Not badly," he grunts, twisting around to reach for the wool blanket in the backseat. "You okay steering for a minute?"

"Which arm is it?"

"The right. Hang on, I need to get a towel or the blanket or something. I can't believe I did that." Blue fingers reach for his seat belt, but Roxanne shakes her head.

"I'll get it. You drive." There's a roll of paper towels on the floor behind the driver's seat; Roxanne unbuckles to get to it. Her stomach flops uncomfortably when she sees the blood on Megamind's arm. "I really hope this looks worse than it is."

"It'll be fine. Just put pressure on it. There's some Band-Aids in the glove box."

"Band-Aids?" Pressing the wadded-up paper towels against his forearm, she thinks she might be getting a little bit hysterical. "You're bleeding all over the car!"

He glances over at her, genuinely amused. "Not _all_ over." Then he blinks. "You're really pale. You okay?"

"I just watched you get _stabbed!_"

"Cut," he corrects, "not stabbed. And it's just a shallow cut, too, look—it's not even that big."

"It's three inches long!"

Frowning, Megamind looks at the side of his hand and wrist. "Two and a half," he amends, and Roxanne makes an incredulous scoffing sound. "But look at it, it's _shallow_."

"If it were shallow, it wouldn't still be bleeding like _this_. I know how you heal; _don't_ lie to me." She keeps her hand planted firmly on his arm as she rummages through the glove compartment, looking for the Band-Aids. "Where," she asks, "did you learn to fight like that?"

He sends her an amused glance. "In prison? Also, keep in mind that as far as I'm concerned, 'shallow' covers anything that doesn't hit bone. I've had worse than this."

She looks at him sharply, even though part of her is trying not to laugh at the fact that Megamind's car comes fully stocked with bandages, because of course it would. "_That_ was not prison fighting."

"Well, when one spends one's childhood around the criminally _gifted_," Megamind says, "one tends to learn…certain techniques. I am a jack of all trades and master of none." He shrugs. "I mean, I can handle myself in a low-down, drag-out brawl. I am a mean bastard with a good piece of chain. Slocks are better, and pipe is best. But this wasn't that kind of setting, and I had you to think about. So, you know. Take them down as fast as possible."

She's staring now and she knows it, but she can't help herself. For one thing, god only knows when's the next time she'll be able to look at his real face, but far more interesting to her right now is that this is a side of him that she has never seen before and it's _fascinating_, not to mention little bit scary. It's easy to forget his background, how he was raised, where, and by whom, but at times like these, when he sidesteps a few punches and uses his elbows and open palms to take down three would-be assailants, the man he's never been is all too easy to recognize. Her boyfriend—the one with the blazingly happy smile and dancing eyes, who all but purrs when she holds him a certain way—is a 'mean bastard with a good piece of chain'?

She doesn't say any of this, of course. She tries not to call him out about the weird stuff; it only makes him uncomfortable. What she says is, "What's a slock?"

"Bunch of padlocks in a sock. Soap works too if you don't have any metal."

"Soap?"

"It's harder than you think, and the density helps." He shrugs. "I'm most comfortable with my hands," he says. "My uncle Guduza is Zulu; he taught me the basics of stick-fighting. But you need sticks for that, and I don't carry those around. Mitch and Vinnie taught me my street fighting—you know, keep your chin down, direct strikes away from your center line, never probe your attacker."

Roxanne stifles a snort. "Probe?"

"You know, like sparring or jabbing to get a feel for them. Those men didn't want to fight, they wanted to rob us or worse. Lucky for us, _they_ weren't trained by Metro City's biggest and baddest. We had a guy in for a little while who knew some Silat, some Krav, some _really_ nice techniques for insurance fraud—he'd been an instructor before he lost everything when the market crashed. Made it nearly three years without getting caught before they got him on a DUI and saw some interesting papers on the passenger seat of his car. I learned a lot from him. It's great exercise, too!"

She closes the cut with two butterfly bandages. "This might scar."

"No it won't," he says confidently. "I don't scar easily. The few I've gotten have faded over time—or are currently fading. Besides, the knife was sharp and the cut is clean. I'll be fine."

"What about the two on your chest?"

Unconsciously, his hand flickers towards the small lines near his right collarbone. "Those are different. They were cauterized and never had the chance to heal properly."

"How did you get them?"

"Laser fire," he says shortly. Then he glances over at her. His thin smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You were there. It was years ago, before you were really used to me. I'm not surprised you don't remember."

_If I was there…_Roxanne frowns. "_Your_ lasers?"

Megamind laughs. "No. Metro Man came at me from the side and I wasn't ready, I didn't dodge fast enough."

She _does_ remember that, oddly enough. She remembers that she had been surprised at how quickly Megamind had given up. He had reeled back with a startled cry, one hand pressed against his shoulder, staring at Wayne with wide green eyes. Then his brows had lowered and he had snarled something, she doesn't remember what, and a minute later she had been safe in the air and on her way home. She had never realized he was really hurt; the thought had simply never occurred to her.

She changes the subject. No time like the present, and she doesn't want to wait for him to calm down before riling him back up again. "I need to talk to you about my dad."

He blinks a few times. "Wait, really?"

"There are some things you should know."

"But you _never_ talk about your dad."

Roxanne opens her mouth, then hesitates. "On second thought, maybe we should wait until I'm driving."

Megamind laughs at that. "Oh, please. I'm sure I can handle it. What's wrong?"

"He may or may not work for the PHED. Whoa!" She plants her feet and throws her hands up against the ceiling; the car has just leapt unexpectedly forward.

"Sorry, sorry!" He brakes quickly, ears burning. "I—I must have misheard you; I thought you said your father might work for the _PHED_."

Roxanne bites her lip and looks down at her lap. Megamind glances over at her and groans. "_Jeez_, Roxanne! You don't think maybe I'd have liked a little more time to prepare myself?"

"I'm sorry!" she protests. "It honestly didn't occur to me until Minion said something. Dad never talks about his job—he just says he helps people. He used to bring people from work home when I was little; I met a lot of cool people that way."

"So what, _exactly_, makes you think he works with the PHED?" Megamind demands, flexing his hand a little and scowling at the way the bandage tugs at his skin.

Roxanne grimaces. "Because one of the people he brought home _may_ have been green."

"Green."

"Not _bright_ green, but she was definitely green_ish_. I…didn't tell Minion about that one. But she was really nice!" she adds, and Megamind makes a noise like _ohmigod_. "It was just one of those things you think is normal when you're little." She shrugs apologetically. "I really didn't consider how strange it was until recently."

He hisses an incredulous puff of air through his nose. "I don't _believe_ this."

She shakes her head. "Look, I don't know for sure, and I'm sorry if it makes you worry. But Minion said I should tell you about it, so now I have."

He laughs shortly. "Well, all I can say is if you're right, the tiny world we live in has just gotten smaller."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." And it is, really. He remembers everyone he had met in Washington when he had been a child, and he would have remembered someone named Ritchi. "There's actually a good chance you're mistaken," he admits. He had wanted to avoid telling her about this, but he might as well. _As long as we're getting all the heavy conversations out of the way in one fell swoop…_ "If your father were associated with the PHED, it would have showed up in your background check."

Roxanne stares at him. "You ran a background check on me?"

"Years ago." He waves it away. "It was nothing personal; I checked all my kidnapees. The last thing I wanted was to grab someone in Witness Protection or with diplomatic immunity or something."

She's quiet for a while, long enough for him to start to worry. But when she speaks, she only sounds curious. "And Chad didn't show up?"

"Not by name. I knew you had a restraining order out at one point, but not who it was against."

"But you could have found that out, if you wanted to."

"Yes." He had thought Roxanne knew how much of an open book her life has become, but if she's surprised that he ran a background check on her…maybe he'd better let her know. Just to be safe. "Look, I'm not going to pry, but you don't exactly have a ton of privacy."

"I know there are cameras in the Lair."

He winces. "I was thinking more about the brainbots. They're around the Lair, sure, but they're also my eyes and ears around the city."

She frowns a little, confused. "What's your point?"

"My point is, the brainbots know where you are if you're within Metro City limits. Also certain areas of Chicago and New York—well, and parts of Japan—and Switzerland—okay, and there _may_ still be a few in San Salvador but that's beside the point." He glances over, nervous. "I really hope this isn't a surprise."

"It is," Roxanne says slowly. "I mean, I know the bots are all over the place, but—wait, are they watching _me?_"

"They keep tabs on everyone they recognize," Megamind tells her. "So, yes."

Roxanne stares at him, fiddling nervously with her seat belt. "I don't know if I'm comfortable with that. You can find out where I am?"

He frowns. "I'm not going to do that."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing," he says slowly, "because it would be a gross invasion of the privacy you _should_ have. And for another? Because I trust you." He rolls his eyes. "Why would I need to know where you are?"

She shrugs. "You don't. But you could."

"_But I won't_." That isn't quite the truth, though. He grimaces. "Unless it's an emergency."

"What _kind_ of emergency?" She's really not okay with this.

He heaves a sigh. "Remember Carnival?"

"Carn-Evil, yes."

"Oh, what_ever_. How do you think I found you so quickly that time?" He cocks an eyebrow at her. "Brainbots. Roxanne, do you love me?"

She blinks, confused. "Of course I do."

"And do you trust me?"

"Yes."

He takes a deep breath, stifling the little thrill that always runs through him when she responds to questions like that without thinking. "Then believe me when I tell you I'm not going to use the brainbots to check up on your location unless it's an emergency and I have no other options. I promise."

She looks at him for a long, tense moment, then nods. "Okay."

He grins, relieved. That was easy. "Really?"

"Yeah. You don't break your promises." Then she offers him a weak half-smile. "Besides, it's not like it's useless. It could come in handy if something bad happens."

There's a pause.

Eventually Megamind breaks it with a strange little laugh. "So, hey. Turns out we're still capable of awkward silences."

She snorts. "How—reassuring?" Then they're _both_ laughing. "I don't believe this," she finally chuckles. "I mean—I still keep being so _surprised_ when I stop and think about what we're doing."

Because how, _how_ could she have known five years ago that someday she would be driving through Colorado with the man who had been kidnapping her for the past few years on their way to visit her family over Christmas? How could she have known that she would be falling asleep if not _in_ his arms every night then _pretty damn close?_ How could she have known that she would someday actually _crave_ physical contact with him? How could she have known they would fit so well together?

He isn't even _human_. There's nothing remotely normal about what they're doing, and yet, somehow, it's so right.

Megamind reaches for the radio. "Music?" he asks.

"Sounds like a plan."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"_Crank it up!_" She giggles uncontrollably, turning up the volume until Megamind actually has to take it down a notch.

"_I don't know this one!_" he yells.

"_Then learn it!_" she shouts back, already air-drumming wildly. "_We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder—_"

Megamind joins her on the chorus the next time it comes around, glad she can't hear him. When the song ends, he quickly lowers the volume and starts scanning through channels. "I get to pick the next—oh _yes!_ _ Shot through the heart! And you're to blame!_"

She cheers and joins in, almost inaudible over Bon Jovi, but she's beaming and laughing whenever she messes up a line and Megamind is cackling right along with her.

They're both panting when he finally turns the music back down until they find out what's on next. "I don't think I've ever caught that one as it was just starting before," she gasps.

"Me either." Then, when the drums start up and she turns towards him with glee shining out of her whole face, he groans. "Really? Africa?"

"Turn it up, turn it up! I hear the drums echoing tonight—"

He sticks out his tongue but twists the dial anyway. And when the chorus rolls around and Roxanne starts pointing at him and singing about how it's gonna take a lot to take me away from you, there's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do, he's kind of glad he didn't switch the station.

A while later, they're both hoarse and their sides hurt from laughing. Megamind has learned that Roxanne knows all the words to every Bruce Springsteen song that will ever come on the radio, can hit notes that make him wince, can stay more or less in tune as long as she _doesn't_ hit those notes, and although she isn't too familiar with the genre she likes a lot of the same hard rock that he does and has at least a passing familiarity with AC/DC. Roxanne has learned that Megamind, while completely incapable of singing in tune despite his claim to perfect pitch, can manage a surprisingly good death metal growl. She also knows that the only real problem he has with _Africa_ is the mispronunciation of 'Serengeti.'

They're both having more fun than they've had in weeks. Megamind's lazy smile stays relaxed, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence to give their voices a break. The landscape flying past has changed from prairie to rolling hills, and Roxanne knows from experience that the Rockies are approaching fast.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**Thornton, Colorado  
****3:50 PM EST  
****1:50 PM MST**

They switch drivers and top off the tank just outside Denver, and Roxanne slips into the driver's seat. Megamind pushes his nose against the window, eyeing the snow-covered mountains plunging up behind the skyline. "Whoa."

"They're pretty high, yeah."

"Are there bears?"

She snorts. "What _is_ it with you and bears?"

"They're big and scary!" he exclaims. "I don't think I could take on a bear if one attacked us. I packed the de-gun in my suitcase."

"They're not going to attack us. They're _asleep_. I told you that yesterday." She smirks at him and decides to have a little fun. "You should be more worried about mountain lions."

He actually goes a little bit pale. "I forgot about those."

She hums happily. "They're active all year rou-ound…"

"Sing-song voice isn't helpingggg…"

A tiny Prius swings in front of her, and she has to stomp on the brake. "Shit!"

"Argh!" Megamind yips, then shudders and hisses at the car in front of them. "I do _not_ like not driving in the city! Don't get me wrong, I trust your driving, but if we get in an accident I want to know it was _my_ fault."

She pats him on the knee. "You're just a control freak, sweetie."

"Well _yeah_," he grumbles, clamping his arms over his chest and aiming his best supervillain glare at the Prius. "You don't become the de facto King of Metrocity without developing _some_ control issues, come on. _Use your turn signals, you—!_" There follows quite a lot of what Roxanne suspects is profanity, but she's not sure in what language.

She changes lanes. "You don't really see yourself as King of Metro City, do you?"

"Well. I mean." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and composes himself. "Maybe not _king_, but I'm the one who keeps the city safe. I'm the one who sorts out the disputes between Lancaster and York. I'm the one the police call when they're out of their depth. I'm the one people contact when they can't get funding for their projects and whatnot. I'm the one who fixes the crap that goes wrong. And what's worse, people _come_ to me when they think I can help them." He rolls his eyes at her. "Every time some new debate starts up, the first question people ask is, _what's Megamind think about it?_"

He's right about that one. It's to the point that he's started wearing Pavel even when he doesn't need to, just to avoid scrutiny. "You're a celebrity, hon. They like you."

"They don't _like me_," he says, "they just don't cower when I walk past anymore. They're still wary of me, though, and I'd like to keep that going for as long as I can. I can still tell them to back off and they'll listen. Remember the Italian joint?"

Roxanne had been conducting an interview with him over lunch—it's one of the only ways they're able to go out together in public without people catching on—when one of the reporters from the Metro Times had spotted him and come over with his notepad in hand, asking all kinds of blanket questions about issues in the sciences, animal testing, human rights activism, and so on and so forth. Megamind had ignored him and signaled for Roxanne to do the same, but when the man hadn't taken the hint, he'd turned and said, very clearly, "Get out of my face." People nearby had put down their forks while Roxanne looked the other way, trying not to laugh.

"Right, yes, this'll only be another second, if you could just give me your thoughts on the late Lord Scott's company, which is currently under investigation for human rights violations—"

Megamind had him by the tie before he could blink, one hand on the thin end and the other on the knot, dragging the horking reporter down towards the table. "I said _get out of my face_."

"S-sorry to have disturbed you." Wheezing, the man had stumbled away.

"Human rights violations," Megamind had scoffed, turning back to Roxanne. "I never heard such malarkey. Scott has always been perfectly up to code."

She snorts at the memory. "I do remember that," she replies. "I half expected you to pull some kind of 'kneel before Zod' stunt; _he_ was certainly heading in that direction."

Megamind grins at her. "I will admit that the thought crossed my mind. There's nowhere you can go but down when somebody's got you by the throat like that—I love ties, they're so _useful_—and let's face it, I'm almost a textbook Superman villain."

"You, my dear, are evil."

"You love it."

The rest of the city driving passes without incident, and as soon as they're headed up into the mountain, Megamind has his nose against the window.

"Looking for lions?" Roxanne says slyly, and he turns just long enough to cast her a dirty look.

"I have reached the conclusion that you were only trying to scare me," he declares, "and I shall take this opportunity to inform you that your attempt was completely unsuccessful and you ought not to try again." Then he resumes his as-close-as-inhumanly-possible scrutiny of the passing landscape.

"Uh-huh. Ready to tell me where we're going?"

He's glad he's staring out the window so she can't see his silly grin. "Not even a little bit."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**Glenwood Springs, Colorado  
****7:10 PM EST  
****5:10 PM MST**

"You're going to want to take this next exit."

She gives him a strange look. "Glenwood Springs?" It's late afternoon, so this is almost certainly where they're going to be staying for the night, but that will leave them with eighteen more hours of driving tomorrow.

He scowls at her. "Just get on 82, would you?" he says, and follows these terse directions with an even terser sequence of "Turn right here"s, so close together that Roxanne has to start laughing.

"Turn right, turn right, turn right again, and then just before you disappear up your own rear end, you get there. Is that it?"

Megamind doesn't get the joke and simply looks puzzled. "Actually, it's about five more miles down the road. And then we have to turn right again."

Roxanne peers dubiously at the road ahead. It appears to lead into the wilderness. Scrubby bushes rise on a steep slope one side; fields of snow sprawl behind dark pines on the other. "Admit it, you're bringing me out here to kill me."

He snorts. "Yes, this has all been part of an elaborate plan to feed you to a pride of mountain lions."

"Joke's on you; mountain lions don't travel in prides. They hunt alone."

He pokes her. "Oh, just—shut up and drive."

"I can't. I don't know where I'm going."

Megamind dissolves into helpless laughter. "Oh, ffff…_fractals_. We have been in this car _way_ too long."

"Are we _close?_" she asks. The scenery out here _is_ rather pretty, but Megamind isn't the only one about to go into exhausted hysterics. "Please tell me we're at _least_ getting close. You're using math terms to swear; that's not a good sign."

"Yes, pretty close. Close-ish."

'Close-ish' turns out to mean 'two minutes away,' but when Megamind says, "Finally. Pull in here," Roxanne finds that she has gone abruptly speechless. It's not a hotel. It's not a _mo_tel. It looks like somebody's house—a massive dark log cabin with pale chinking, stone chimney and stone porch.

Mutely, she puts the car in park and turns off the engine. Megamind is out of the car and stretching before she can think of anything intelligent to say, so she just stays quiet as she gets out and sets about reminding her knees of their proper functions.

"So?" Megamind says, leaning on the side of the car and grinning at her over the roof. "What do you think?"

Roxanne looks around. _I think I didn't know you realized bed and breakfasts even existed_. "I think I haven't seen the inside yet."

He laughs and points down the hill, towards a shadow in the trees. "We're not staying in the main house; we're staying in that one. Come on, let's go talk to Bob and Lucy." With that, he turns and bounds fearlessly up onto the porch, knocks on the door as though he's known these people his whole life. "Hoy, Bob! Anyone home?"

The door swings wide and a stout old woman with a sunny smile appears in the doorway. "Well hey there, stranger, you must be Dr. Chudakov," she exclaims, "c'mon inside."

"Please, it's Pavel," he insists, and returns her brief embrace, bumping his cheek against hers in greeting. "And this is my lady, Roxanne." Beaming, he half-turns and holds out his arm, guiding her forward. "Roxanne, I'd like you to meet the lovely Mrs. Underhill, who has been instrumental in arranging this surprise."

Roxanne, who has never been called anyone's 'lady' before, hides her surprise well and smiles at Lucy Underhill. "It's good to meet you. Sorry I'm a mess, I had no idea he'd be taking me anyplace this nice—!" She nearly chokes as she's pulled into the most back-breaking hug she's ever had.

"Oh, don't apologize, I hear you've taken quite a hike today. All the way from Nebraska, is that right? Come on, I'll give you a quick tour and then you'll probably want to rest for a bit. This here's the main house, you'll have breakfast here, just come on up when it's time and come right in." She shrugs on a quilted coat and steps into a pair of wellington boots, lifts a key from a hook on the doorframe. "You're down by the creek, right?"

"That sounds right, yes," Megamind says, and follows her out into the snow.

The three of them tramp down the hill through the trees, Megamind and Lucy chatting amiably about the weather and the drive. Roxanne stays quiet, just watching—she hardly ever sees him this bright and exposed, cracking jokes, flattering the older woman shamelessly, laughing at her dry humor. He's like a completely different person. It's amazing.

"Okay, now, you've got the cabin to yourselves," Lucy says as they round the corner of the small building. "The creek there is louder in spring—usually you can hear it all night from here, and the birds just love it in the mornings. It's frozen now, though, so you'll have it pretty quiet. Here we are," and she opens the door and flicks on the light, and oh, wow.

The walls are rough wood panels, glowing darkly in the golden light from the small chandelier. Heavy log beams cross the peaked plaster ceiling. The bed in the corner has a hand-made quilt and matching shams, its iron bedstead fitting in perfectly with the rustic décor, and there's a small table with two chairs opposite a low futon sofa.

Roxanne looks around, finds Lucy and Megamind watching her, and realizes she's been staring. "This is gorgeous," she says, and means it.

Lucy smiles warmly at her. "Well, I'll leave you two to get settled in. What time tomorrow do you want breakfast?"

"Is six too early?" Megamind asks. "We have a long way to go yet."

She raises an eyebrow but shakes her head. "Six is fine, Bob and I are always up by half-past four. Just call and let me know if you change your minds, all right? And don't worry if you decide to sleep in."

As soon as she's gone, Roxanne flops onto the bed, which lets out a series of delighted squeaks. "This is the best bed," she says, patting it. Squeaking won't be a problem; she and Megamind both sleep like the dead.

Megamind collapses onto the futon sofa, kicking his boots off and sprawling his arms out, taking advantage of the room to move. "So, seriously, what do you think? Nice place?"

"_Very_ nice place. Where did you find it?"

"Internet," he says with a shrug. "There were a few options. I narrowed them down to two, this place and another bed and breakfast three hours down the road, which probably would have been better because now we'll have, what, seventeen hours of driving tomorrow? But Bob got back to me first, and I liked him. Very personable. You really like it?"

Roxanne smiles at him. "Sweetie, I love it. You done good. I'm surprised you didn't pick somewhere more urban, though."

He shrugs a little. "Urban is what I'm used to, but the whole point of driving all this way is so that I can see more of the country, so I tried to pick somewhere a little more remote."

"You picked somewhere beautiful is what you did."

He smiles. "Well. I'm glad you think so. So now we're here, what do you want to do?"

She hesitates, biting her lip. "Honestly? I kind of want to take a nap. But if you'd rather do something else, that's fine by me—"

He stands and starts putting his boots back on. "Tell you what, I'm not sleepy. I'm going to go explore for a while, stretch my legs. Then I'll come back here, wake you up, and we'll locate somewhere for dinner. Okay?"

"You really don't mind?"

This gets her a firm shake of the head. "No, I really don't. You rest. Stay here."

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment, but finally decides to take him at his word. "Thanks."

He glances up at her and grins, thrusts a finger into the air with a flourish. "I shall return with a mountain lion in tow, Miss Ritchi!"

She chuckles, already curled up in the middle of the bed with her eyes closed. "Try not to get eaten."

"They won't eat me, I'm far too scrawny." He closes the door quietly behind him, then turns and looks around, breathing deeply.

It really is amazing, how muffled the world feels when it's covered in snow. He sets out with a purpose, his eye on the pines on the mountain that rises on the other side of the small valley. It doesn't take him too long to get past the small cluster of buildings, and he looks again at the mountain. It doesn't look _so_ far. He'll be able to climb it and be back before dark.


	4. Chapter 4

So this is a fairly short chapter, because if I didn't cut it where I did, it would end up being somewhere in the vicinity of fifteen thousand words instead of five, and as much as I like the long chapters (and I've decided I do rather like the long chapters), there is such a thing as too much. And there is some _incredibly_ personal stuff coming up, backstory-wise, and I don't want to cut Chapter 4 too early too early and have to open 5 with things like…well, like suicide triggers, as a random (non-specific) example. (Not spoilers. Trigger warnings. Totally different.)

No road trip stuff in this chapter, sorry folks, but you get a lot of that in chapters 5 and 6. And this way, Chapter 5 will be up _really soon_, like maybe as early as _a week from today_, because it's already almost completely written! Yay!

A note about Ginger, the Friendly Mountain Man: he is in no way based off a grizzled old-timer it was my pleasure to meet while visiting relatives in West Virginia a few years ago. This guy was an absolute riot. He asked me what the difference between the Mountaineers and cheerios was, then told me one belonged in a bowl and the other didn't. The joke itself wasn't that funny, but his face while he told it was just so delighted that I nearly died. Ginger is not based off him. Nope. Not at _all_.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviews. And everyone who rants with me over PMs. You are spectacular. I love you. The end.

(I love you even if you don't review, too. I have a little counter that tells me how many people look at a chapter. I don't know who you are, but I know people are reading, and that makes me really incredibly happy.)

COOKIES FOR EVERYONE.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_He should be able to be back before dark_.

Famous last words. Two miles later he's still going strong, but now it's uphill and he's stuck in _trees_ again, and it's getting harder to navigate even though when he turns around in the clear areas he can still see where he came from. Luckily, the pines are thick and close together and there's not more than a couple inches of snow in most places, so walking isn't too hard.

When he stops to catch his breath and look around, all he sees are silent trees standing close together, lichen-covered stones jutting from the ground between them. Nothing moves. The treetops bend with the wind, but he's mostly sheltered from that, and down by the ground, the air is almost totally still. He's alone.

It makes him profoundly uncomfortable.

_Think about something else_. Well, there's walking. There's walking through trees, that's one thing, and then there's walking through trees up a mountain without a path while there's snow on the ground in Colorado while wearing the disguise generator and that's something else entirely. Usually he doesn't need to look at his feet when he walks—Megamind, of all people, always _always_ knows where his feet are and where he is putting them and if it will move—but apparently the rules for walking are slightly different on rocks and small crunchy frozen shrubs. Also, his feet are not _quite_ in the same places as Pavel's in relation to knees and bone ratios and things of that nature, and he's stumbled four times, and he's had about enough of that.

The disguise generator isn't strictly necessary at this point. Its muttering flash touches the green needles and paints them blue, but even the soft sound doesn't go very far in this air, and great, now he's back on the silence again. He huffs, irritated with himself, and glances around.

Then he freezes. Something is moving in the trees. Some kind of animal.

On one hand, he's not alone in the forest. On the other hand, he's not alone in the forest. He isn't sure how he feels about this.

He can only see its back moving up the hill on the other side of a fallen pine and some rocks. Low to the ground, it's too short to be a deer but too large to be anything else. _Bear_, he thinks, but it's too small for that and it doesn't move like he thinks a bear would. He doesn't breathe. He's downwind of whatever it is; it doesn't know he's there and it's only thirty yards away.

His fingers creep towards where his de-gun should be, but no, _no_, it's still in his suitcase in the cabin. _Stupid!_

Then it moves clear of the brush and he sees it—an absolutely _enormous_ cat, with a long thick tail and dark ears, its heavy winter coat blending perfectly with the ruddy brown of the pine trunks.

He sucks in a reflexive breath, disbelief mingling with fear, and it turns its head and looks straight at him, stops moving with one foot still raised.

Megamind and the lion stare at one another for a long few seconds. Then it puts its foot down and stares harder, ducks its head a little as if trying to get a clearer look at him. Megamind doesn't move.

_But I was _joking, he thinks dizzily, _I was joking about the mountain lions; I didn't mean—aren't these things terribly threatened?_

It turns slightly towards him, moving slowly, its great feet making no noise at all in the snow, and for the first time in Megamind's life, all thought stops. Tension gathers in its rear legs when he closes his mouth, which has been hanging open, and it turns the rest of the way in his direction.

It's the largest animal he's ever seen, and it's close. Bigger than any dog, even the ones York keeps with him. And it could kill him.

One rear leg comes up as it turns and it hesitates, moving its head again to see him better, and there's one heart-stopping moment when it's facing him head-on before he realizes what's actually going on here.

It's only turning around. It's been watching him so closely not because it wants to attack him but because it's not sure what he is or if he poses a threat. It's as surprised to see him as he is to see it, and for a moment he's able to look at it with a sort of wondering shock instead of fear before it simply finishes its turn and trots back the way it had come.

He lets out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, as well as a softly fervent, "Shit." It's certainly not an eloquent exclamation and nowhere near his usual standard, but it's honestly the only word in his head. He's grinning like a lunatic.

His next thought is, _I wish I'd had the camera with me_.

Then his cell phone rings and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Sir?"

He breathes, collapsing back against the tree he's been standing under, weak-kneed. "Minion. It's you. Why are you calling? Is everything all right?"

The reply sounds hesitant. "I was going to ask you that."

"I'm fine." _Surprisingly enough_. He frowns. "Why?"

"I—I don't know, Sir. I just suddenly thought I should call you."

A tinny voice from far away comes through the line: "_You're stalling! C'mon, make a move before I die of old age._"

Megamind has to blink a few times. Everything just seems incredibly surreal. He's just finished a surprise encounter with a _wild_ _mountain lion_, of all things, and now suddenly he's talking to Minion, which is such a _normal_ thing to do that it's almost stupefying. "What on earth was that?"

"That was Scott." Megamind can hear his friend rolling his eyes. "He thinks I'm calling you to ask for help with Scrabble."

Well, if that doesn't just beat all. "You're...playing Scrabble with Wayne?"

"He's surprisingly good at it," Minion says dryly. "He's winning, actually. Stuck 'xebec' on a triple word score. I nearly hit him."

"I wouldn't recommend you do that. You'd break your hand and half the parts you'd need to fix it have been discontinued." Megamind shakes his head. "What is a 'xebec'?"

"Apparently it was a kind of Mediterranean sailing ship."

"_Minion I am sitting on the best word of all time and I am not a patient man_."

"It had better not be 'bumfuckery' again! You _know_ that isn't a word."

"_Hey man, you're the one playing all the 'U's, what else am I s'posed to do with them?_"

"Well I don't know! You pulled 'xebec' out of thin air; surprise me!"

Megamind has to clap a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing—the state he's in, any laughter is going to be embarrassingly high-pitched. "Well, Minion, I'll let you get back to your game. Everything is fine here."

"Okay." The little fish sounds mildly disgruntled. "Call me if something goes wrong."

"I will. Thank you, Minion."

He hangs up, then stares at his phone for a moment. Minion is playing Scrabble with Wayne. The mind boggles. _Ah, well_, he thinks, looking up towards the top of the mountain and trying to shake off the adrenaline from his brief encounter with the local wildlife and his scare with his phone, _up we go_.

Half a mile later, he's finally struggling out of the trees when his phone chirps at him, alerting him to a text message.

_tell me unaus isn't a word_

He grins and turns his attention to the brightly-lit screen, trying not to think about how it's getting dark outside and he's three miles from where he started and there's a mountain lion somewhere out there. _It's a kind of two-toed sloth_.

_DAMMIT SIR_

He really does laugh, then—Minion swearing is always funny—and then he looks up and stifles a yell, his heart drumming a frenetic tattoo against his ribcage all over again. The man with the truck isn't half so composed, and lets out a bellowing "Jayzus Keeryst!"

Megamind leaps back, slips, and bruises his tailbone on a snow-covered stone. For a moment, he and the red-bearded man stare at each other with eyes like saucers. Eventually he laughs awkwardly and starts to get to his feet, but the other man stumbles backwards, white-faced.

"Sorry," Megamind says, "I—I wasn't expecting to see anybody up here—"

"Yer one o' them space aliens."

He stops dead. "I beg your pardon?"

The man shakes his head, never taking his eyes away from the startled creature opposite him. "Jim said he seen 'em, but I never did…I never…"

The disguise generator. He must have forgotten to turn it back on. Slowly, he raises his hands. "I, uh. I come in peace?"

He stares at him for another long minute, taking in the wool coat, the boots, the scarf, and then he starts to laugh. "I jist bet you do," he wheezes. "Criminy, son, you look colder'n a well digger's ass. Where you from?"

Megamind points. "Staying with the Underhills," he says, trying for an approximation of the man's accent. _Nonthreatening. I am nonthreatening_. "You know the place?"

"Bob and Lucy? I oughta know the place, their youngest's my son-in-law."

Megamind lowers his hands and replaces his disguise. "Well, sir," he says slowly, "I'd be real appreciative if you'd give me a lift. Got myself a little turned around."

The old man whistles between his teeth. "That's a nice piece of equipment," he replies, nodding at the watch. "Sure, yer welcome to come on in the truck if y'kin fit that head of yours in. I'll drop you at Bob's."

Megamind climbs gratefully into the truck. "Name's Pavel," he says.

"Just toss the rifle in the back, 't isn't loaded. Folks call me Ginger."

_How apt_. "Can't imagine why," he says dryly, and Ginger chuckles.

"You walk up here as the crow flies?"

"More or less."

"Drunk crow, then. Y'know there's a trail?" He turns the key in the ignition, and the engine turns over unhappily. "C'mon, old gel, c'mon, m'lady." _Sputter. Wheeze_. "C'mon, you sonuva two-dollar whore!"

The old truck rumbles reluctantly to life. Megamind eyes the gear shift warily—it's little more than a rusty stick duct-taped to the control rod.

"Just got to know how to talk to her," Ginger says happily, patting the dashboard with a fond smile.

"Heh heh heh," says Megamind, searching in vain for a seat belt. He finds a length of rough rope instead. "Uh…"

"Oh, just tie that to the other one down left. Couple of half-hitches and then take the extra over to the s-hook on yer right. Or don't. Ain't more'n a couple miles down the road."

Megamind grapples first with these strange instructions and then with the two ropes, finally opting to just hold onto them for dear life. "Are there headlights?" he ventures to ask. He can see perfectly well in the grey half-light, but humans…

"Busted 'em out in oh three, but don't worry." Ginger sends him a comforting grin as he puts the car in gear. "I know these switchbacks like the back of m'hand."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Roxanne has the door open when Megamind finally stumbles onto the porch. "Where have you been? Why weren't you answering your phone? It's been _hours!_ I've been worried _sick!_"

"Sorry, sorry!" He stamps and kicks against the stoop, knocking the snow off onto the mat before coming inside. "I tried to call you, but Ginger's cabin doesn't get cell phone reception."

"And just who," she says flatly, "is Ginger?"

"This old trapper up yonder—ffff, just up the road a ways. _Bleah_." He works his mouth a little, massages his cheeks. He's going to be picking that accent out of his teeth for at least an hour.

Roxanne stares at him. "What is wrong with your voice? You sound like something out of the Beverly Hillbillies."

"I know," he says carefully. "My Uncle Bill was backcountry, he always said that his kind of people trusts other backcountry folk more readily than outsiders, and language is always the first barrier. I hiked up Sun Peak, met this guy at the top—he freaked out, of course. Apparently he never believed his cousin's stories about space aliens. Here, take this. You will not _believe_ the night I've had." He hands her a warm canvas bag. "Don't let that tip over."

Roxanne takes it, unsure whether to ask about the bag or the comment about space aliens. "He saw you?"

"I wasn't exactly expecting to see anybody at the top of a scenic overlook in Colorado in the middle of _December_." He rolls his eyes, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it in the wardrobe. It's caked with snow; he leaves the doors open so it can dry. "It's okay, though, apparently his 'Cousin Jim' out in New Mexico has been abducted five or six times. He thought I was hilarious. Took about ten polaroids with me. He promised he wouldn't send them to his cousin until at least February."

"Change your disguise, you still look like you're about to go trekking through the Himalayas."

He switches to a blue shirt and iron-grey jeans. "Better?"

"Much." She holds up the bag. "What is this?"

He grins at her. "That, dear lady, is food. It looks like roadkill but it's really good, trust me."

"What a ringing endorsement. What happened to finding dinner?"

"I found it," he says, weaving a little and leaning heavily on the arm of the couch. "That's it right there. Look, don't worry about Ginger, I explained things to him and when he finally stopped laughing he swore—on what I'm pretty sure was a copy of Poor Richard's Almanac, but I'm not _entirely_ certain—he swore he wouldn't tell a soul about me."

"And you believed him?"

"Well, we sealed the deal with some kind of liquor, and according to Uncle Bill that's a solid pact. No idea what was in it, it tasted like death on a shin-gule." He stifles a hiccup. "Judging by the way I'm reacting, I think it may have been corn. What _is_ it with you people and corn? I don't _get_ it."

She shakes her head and goes over to the little table, unwrapping the furs as she goes. Inside is a hot tin pail. "I thought you couldn't drink?"

"I can't. I'm going to be very sick in a moment, that's why there's so much stew." She turns and stares at him, and he offers her a wan smile from where he's still bracing himself against the sofa. He really doesn't look good. "I'll be hungry all over again."

Oddly enough, he doesn't sound bothered about this at all. Roxanne blinks at him, uncertain. "You want me to wait for you?"

He shrugs. "If you aren't too hungry, that would be nice." Then he frowns. "Please excuse me. Bathroom."

As he reels away, Roxanne falls backwards onto the sofa, bemused. She had woken up just as the sun was setting, fully three hours after she'd gone to sleep, and tried to call Megamind with no answer. Worried, she had tried again, only to have it go straight to voicemail. And now he's back, with mysterious supper from a mysterious trapper named Ginger, cheerfully getting sick in the toilet.

He's back about ten minutes later, still looking slightly green around the gills but bright-eyed and chipper regardless.

"Feeling better?" she asks, and he nods.

"Much better," he replies, "but hungry again."

"You're a lunatic," she tells him, but finds bowls and a mason jar of utensils in the small cupboard above the table.

"I'm the lunatic you're looking for," he quips, and she's glad her back is turned so he can't see her trying to quash her goofy smile—she's determined to remain irritated with him at the very least. She had been _really_ worried.

"So, let me get this straight. You hiked up that mountain across the valley, met a mountain man, went home with this mountain man, had dinner with him, and then he drove you here?"

"Well, his daughter married Bob and Lucy's son, so he knows the area. I asked him for a lift here, but halfway home he said my stomach sounded like a sow bear and offered to feed me so it'd quit growling at him. I wanted to know if he knew a good place to eat around here, but he said he could do better than any, and I quote, 'highfalutin classed-up watering hole.'"

Roxanne snorts, bites back a laugh, but her lips are twitching when she brings the bowls to the table and she suspects it's a lost cause. Staying upset at Megamind is impossible, honestly.

"So yes," he continues, "we went back to his cabin and had a lovely supper during which I ignored my astonishing lack of alcohol tolerance and he told a number of lewd jokes which I am now doing my level best to forget."

Truth be told, she's still inclined to be worried about him. But he looks and sounds all right now and he knows his body's abilities better than she does; despite his penchant for hiding his injuries, if has an appetite, he probably really is fine.

Besides, maybe she's hungrier than she had thought she was, but whatever's in the pail is so absolutely _delicious_ it's distracting. "What is _in_ this?"

"Raccoon, mostly. There's some deer, some bear, pheasant, turkey. The really dark pieces are skunk."

She chokes.

"Well, think about it," Megamind says reasonably, chewing with obvious relish, "what does a skunk run from?"

She swallows. "Nothing?"

"Exactly!" He beams at her. "They just waddle around getting fat. Butcher them right, and they're about the tenderest meat you'll ever find."

"I'm not sure that's a word."

"Most tender. Whatever. Ginger said tenderest." He shrugs, and they eat in companionable silence for a while.

As they're finishing up, he says, "It's good stuff, whatever's in it. I did ask him what seasonings he used."

She fights back a grin. "And he said?"

Megamind clears his throat. "'Couple o' splashes of pepper, a whole heap of salt, couple cans o' baked beans, few splashes of wor-chester-shire sauce, stewed t'maters, some Idaho Reds, and about a half a can of mustard.'"

Roxanne, who had completely lost it at the literal pronunciation of Worcestershire, is nearly crying by the end of this gleeful recitation.

"I wish you'd been there," Megamind tells her, grinning. "You'd have liked him."

"I'm sure I would have," she sighs, wiping her eyes.

"You'd have made it at least twenty-three percent more hilarious, that's for sure. Oh, question—is Wayne particularly good at Scrabble?"

She snorts. "He's a Scrabble _beast_. He learns words specifically so that he can use them in-game."

He leans his chin on his hand. "Is _that_ why your vocabulary is so broad?"

"Well, that and my continued association with you." She grins. "It's hilarious, it really is. He has absolutely _zero_ tactical knowledge—forget chess, he loses at _checkers_ every single time we play—and yet, somehow, he looks at a pile of useless Qs and Js and does he think, oh, my hand is crap? No. No, he plays freaking _equijacent_." She gives him the _c'mon really_ look that always makes him want to laugh. "Equijacent? I didn't even know that was a word!" Then she cocks her head. "Why?"

"Heard from Minion earlier, he was in a mood. Apparently our large friend stuck 'xebec' on a triple word score."

Her lips twitch. "Those ships have lost me so many points. Oh, and never ever let him talk you into playing Monopoly, because he _will_ win—I'm still trying to figure out how he cheats. What are we going to do about the dishes?"

"Give them to me," he tells her. "I've watched Minion do the washing up enough times, I know how to do it. And then I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed."

"Bed sounds good," Roxanne says. "You want me to set your PJs out for you?"

"Thank you, that would be nice."

By the time he's done giving the dishes a cursory scrubbing the bathroom sink, Roxanne is already in bed. He gets into his pajamas as quietly as he can, but as he's crawling under the covers Roxanne says, "How's your arm?"

He blinks. He honestly hasn't thought about it at all. "It hurts a little, I guess," he says. "Why?"

"You should probably put an actual bandage on it," she tells him. "I know you said it's okay, but it is a big cut."

"Tomorrow," he promises. "I'll do it tomorrow."

She rolls over and raises herself up onto one elbow. "I worry about you, you know. You've always downplayed your injuries."

It's difficult to tell in the darkness because he can't see her face, but she sounds honestly troubled. He cocks his head. "Does it bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me," she replies, and now she just sounds incredulous—amazed that he would think it _wouldn't_ bother her. Megamind is quiet for a long moment. When he doesn't say anything, she sighs. "Do you remember the time Wayne threw you through that steel door?"

"No. I remember the time Metro Man threw me through a steel door." She rolls her eyes, but he insists, "It's an important distinction!"

"Okay, okay. Anyway. He threw you hard enough to break it down and you didn't get up. And then it was _months_ since I'd heard from you, and I wasn't used to that. So I went to the prison and asked around, and do you know what I did when someone finally told me that the only time you wouldn't get up was if you were seriously injured? I cried."

Megamind sits up and stares at her. "But that was _years_ ago," he says, astonished. "That was _ages_ before we started doing this."

"That was the first time I ever watched you get hurt," she informs him coolly.

"_That_ explains why you were so smiley when you woke up the next time!" he exclaims. "I never knew!"

Roxanne sits up now, too. "That would be why," she agrees. "I was so relieved you were okay. It's a good thing you tied me down, or I might have hugged you. To be fair," she adds, "I would have done the same thing if Wayne had been the one who got hurt, but if you think this whole 'me caring what happens to you' thing is new, you're wrong. Just so you know."

She lies back down, pulling him with her, but he's the one who rolls her over and covers her mouth with his and kisses her deeply, slipping his tongue between her lips to tease her. It's a sign of how very far they've come, that he's able to just kiss her like that without warning.

He breaks the kiss and lifts his head a little, but keeps her face cupped in his hands. "Thank you," he whispers. "That means more to me than you know."

She half-smiles and strokes her thumb over his goatee. "That's why I told you."

He smiles down at her, and she thinks, _Oh, to hell with sleep_, and tilts his head to the side with her thumb and cranes her neck upwards to press her mouth to his throat. That's as far as she goes, though; she isn't sure if he's tired.

He exhales, then kisses her again, more forcefully this time, and she has her answer. Sleep will be a long time coming to both of them, but only the bed is complaining.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

In the middle of the night, Megamind's eyes fly open and he inhales sharply—then he blinks. "Why," he croaks, then swallows, "why are you up?"

Roxanne straightens but doesn't let go of his arm. He's curled on his side, facing the room, and she had been standing in front of him and shaking him. "Because you usually lash out when I startle you awake."

He blinks again. "Really?"

"You kick. Really hard, actually." She stares down at him apologetically, hugging herself and shivering a little. She isn't wearing much. He blinks and focuses; she isn't wearing _anything_. "I wasn't going to tell you, since you can't help it, but…"

He shudders and slowly sits up. "This wasn't that kind of dream, I think."

"By which you mean you remember this one?" She starts to hug herself—it's _cold_—only to find that he's reached out with one of his lighting-fast movements and caught her hands.

"Partly, yes. Please get back in bed. Now."

She resists the urge to tell him not to boss her and starts to walk back around the end of the bed, but he doesn't let go of her hands. "Megamind, I have to—" But something in his expression stops her, something hunted or haunted or somewhere in between. His brows are lowered but his eyes are wide. He tugs a little on her hands, and she isn't sure why but she doesn't put her foot down and make him let go; instead she crawls awkwardly onto the bed and across his legs still holding on. "What's _wrong?_" she asks, wriggling back down under the covers.

"It caught me again."

"What?"

"The thing that's always chasing me," he snaps. "It _caught_ me again. Like last time. Usually I wake up in time, usually I don't wake _you_ up."

She frowns. "But not this time."

"No." He's quiet for a long minute, trying to figure out how to explain, trying to decide if he even wants to. The dreams don't scare him—the shadow in them does. And only because he can't fight it, and because he knows what will happen if it catches him. He knows where it will send him.

Roxanne sounds hesitant. "Have you tried facing it?"

"Yes." It comes out sullen. "That just makes it worse."

"Do you know what it is?"

"I have a pretty good idea." He decides, on second thought, that he'd rather not talk about it. Even though that's _probably_ the point. The shadow, whatever it is, seems intent on throwing him back into all the places he refuses to think about—usually it's space. Usually he's stuck in a bubble, rolling through utter emptiness.

But not this time. This time, it was the bathroom in his high school, _that day_. That day with the pen and the _why not?_ It's almost, _almost_ worse than space. In space he's lonely and grieving, but _that day_, he had known with all certainty that it was never going to stop; it was going to go on and on and on…

He shuts his eyes, squeezes them closed. _No. We're not going there_. When she kisses him he jerks away with an animal snarl from deep in his chest that startles them both.

He stares at her, aware that he's shaking, wanting to apologize, wanting very badly to be normal and functional and not afraid of the dark things in his mind but completely unable to speak.

Then her head tilts and her eyebrows pull together, and she says, "Hey. Hey, now. Come here," and she gently extricates one hand from his and puts it behind his head, scooting closer to him and pulling him towards her on the pillow—and that's no small feat; his head is _heavy_—and pressing her forehead against his. "I should have expected this would happen," she whispers, and he hisses a sigh. "This whole trip is going to be very hard. On both of us, but you especially. You're the one who stands to potentially lose the most."

She pauses for a minute, but he still doesn't respond. He really hadn't wanted to wake her up. He has been dealing with this quietly on his own without any problems—she can tell him as many times as she wants not to worry about asking for help, but sometimes he just wants to be _able_ to not ask for help. This must be what she had meant when she'd told him she hates feeling like she needs to be rescued all the time. It makes him feel weak and stupid and needy, and he hates it.

When it becomes clear that he's not going to say anything, she continues, "And I mean, sure I'm here and sure you know I'm not planning on going anywhere, but that's on the surface." She flops her arm around his back and scoots closer still, so that they're lying front-to-front. "Maybe I'm just better at hiding it than you are," she muses. "But when I tell you that I'm amazed every time I look at you and think, oh _wow_, I'm dating this amazing wonderful man and we communicate and argue and laugh all the time and I'm living with him and he isn't grossed out when I forget to take my hair off the wall in the shower," she smiles in the dark, "I mean I'm seriously amazed. I told you before, I had decided to be content with being on my own."

He nods.

"And it was fun and all—I never had to worry about letting somebody else know where I was—but every now and again, something would happen and I'd wish I had someone to tell about it." She hooks a leg over his waist, not trying to be sexy, just pulling him a little bit closer. "Or I'd have a terrible day at the office and come home and just sit and be sad because I couldn't vent at anybody.

"And I know that's not anything like what you went through," she adds quickly, "I know that's kittens and rainbow sparkles compared to all the utter crap you've had to deal with. But just because I was content before we started dating doesn't mean I was _happy_."

They've ended up with her wrapped around him, and her body heat is _incredible_. Usually, he'd wriggle away a little; he doesn't like being so warm and sometimes she's a little bit too much for him, but right now all he wants to be is closer. Her heat and just the _smell_ of her—it's overwhelming, she is so incredibly close and just so_ there_ and it's wonderful. He hums at her. That's the one thing he's never been able to understand about humans: they are all so _warm_. How they manage to burn so much energy and put out so much heat is totally beyond him.

"So, what I mean is—I know. Kind of. I kind of know what it means to tell yourself to make do with what you've got, and I know what it is to be content with that. But I also know what it means to be content with being alone."

"Not alone," he protests. "You had Jo and Hal. And Wayne. And other friends, surely."

She chuckles. "And you had Minion." Her arms around him tighten ever so slightly. "We both know it's not the same."

He shuts his eyes. "I suppose not. I was doing a lot better for a while there, I really was." His mouth twists. "I _really_ didn't want to wake you up."

"You don't have to be embarrassed—"

"Of course I have to be embarrassed!" he exclaims. "I'm having all kinds of nightmares because I'm afraid to be _lonely?_ How sad is that?"

"Honey, from what you remember and what I can tell of the way your mind works, you belong to a social species. You're not designed for isolation any more than I am." She shrugs. "I think it's totally reasonable for your subconscious to be running in circles going _oh no we're gonna crash! Aaagh!_"

He grins. "'Aaagh'?"

"That's what I said. _Aaagh_." She yawns and lets go of him, nudges at his shoulder. "Roll over. I wanna be big spoon."

He rolls his eyes but does as she asks, smiling when she hums appreciatively and presses close along his back. It's not a perfect fit—their heights are similar but his torso is very long, so she loses contact with him just below her hips and has to settle for tangling her feet in his spindly legs. Still, her head fits pretty well into the curve of his neck under his skull and he's finally grown used to her breathing on him. She yawns again, hugely. "So don't be silly, 'kay? Don't worry 'bout waking me up. I know. Still dream about falling sometimes, makes me all panicky and weird. Less now, though."

There's a pause.

"Hey. Roxanne?"

"Hmm."

"How did you get rid of the falling dreams?"

She sighs a puff of warm air against his neck that makes him entirely too comfortable. "Didn't get rid of them. Just don't get them so much these days. They suck. Can't fight 'em. Stupid."

He rolls his eyes in the dark. He's gotten his four hours of sleep; he's not going back to dreamland anytime soon, but lying still and cuddling is something he's okay with. "Okay, but how did you make them go away?"

She's almost asleep now, he can tell. "Well that one's easy," she says, snuggling her nose into his shoulder as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do, "I met you."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

She only wakes up once after that, and that's because there's a draft on her skin—and Megamind's hands are on her hips, and his mouth is—his _mouth_ is—

_Definitely_ not complaining.


	5. Chapter 5

Again, a huge thank you to Karen B. Jones for road trip ideas (and all the other ideas, too!). This chapter would have sucked without her.

And in response to Negative Other (I couldn't reply to your question 'cause you weren't logged in)…the whole emotion-sensing thing is really just that: he senses other people's emotions. It's like walking past a rosebush and smelling roses, or walking past a skunk and smelling something a little bit stronger than roses. They don't become _his_ emotions or anything, and ordinarily it wouldn't be a problem at all. But on Earth, he has a hard time with crowds of people. He can't really handle more than 10 in a room if he hasn't had caffeine in the last ten to twenty-four hours or so, depending on social context and his stress levels. Humans can't control what pheromones they put out, so for him, being in a crowd is like wading through the biggest flower garden you've ever seen, except it's in the same place as a huge garbage heap, and then there are a bunch of chemical processing plant odors on top of that. Take all of it and multiply it by six. The real trouble here is that he's built to _react_ to some of these emotional broadcasts; his biology is such that it's meant to be a secondary form of communication. It may once have been his species' _primary_ form of communication, before they developed syntax and a spoken language. His body reacts to some of these pheromone inputs without his direction.

But they don't become his emotions. Honestly, I could probably write something like a ten page paper on how all his biochemical stuff works, how it might have developed, that sort of thing. If any of you have questions, drop me a line. Oh, and there's another shortish story completed and posted to my Livejournal, if any of you want to read it before it goes up here on Ffnet. I'm postponing the cross-post until Twelve Days is over.

And speaking of Twelve Days, here's Chapter 5! I still own nothing. I hope you enjoy! Suicide trigger warnings in this one, but not a lot of trauma. Is there such a thing as a mild trigger warning?

* * *

**Chapter 5**

She opens her eyes and frowns. There's bright sunlight pouring through the windows and she sits bolt upright—_what happened to six o'clock?_

"What's going on?" she asks. Megamind's side of the bed is made up already, and he's sprawled over the sofa reading a newspaper. "I thought we were supposed to be on the road by now?"

"Change of plans," he says, smiling brightly as he folds the paper up and lays it down on his lap. "Sorry I didn't ask you first, but when I tried to wake you up you hit me in the nose and mumbled something about parsnips."

She chuckles. "Sorry."

"It's okay. You were asleep, you didn't hit very hard. It was more of a batting motion." He demonstrates, flopping an arm at her pathetically until she can't help but laugh. "So I called up to the house and told Lucy and Bob that we'd be up at ten o'clock for breakfast. They said that was fine."

The clock reads 9:06. "You do realize we have nearly eighteen more hours of driving today?"

"Yes. Don't worry, we'll manage. And this way we'll get to your mother's tomorrow morning, and we won't have to wake her up during the wee hours to let us in!" He sends her a sunny smile that she just can't argue with. "We'll take driving in shifts! And you know me, I can stay up for _days_. So you can sleep in the car and I'll get us to your mother's. No problem."

Privately, she thinks there will be a problem if only because they both tend to become slightly hysterical after ten or so hours of driving, but Megamind looks so excited that she can't bring herself to point this out. _Oh well_, she thinks ruefully, _que será, será._

"That sounds great," she tells him. He beams. "You're not wearing the disguise yet? The sun's up."

His smile turns sly. "About that. I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh," she says, grinning, and he sticks his tongue out at her.

"I think it'll be okay if I don't wear it all the time. I know how much you hate it, and truth be told I like the safety it affords but it doesn't really help my mindset any. We can keep it off as long as the car stays invisible." He pauses. "But I think I should keep it on at all times when we're at your mother's house. Even at night."

Roxanne rubs the sleep sand out of her eyes and puts her chin on her knees, wrapping her hands around her ankles under the covers, thinking about how they really should put in a window in Megamind's bedroom at the Lair because his skin and eyes in the morning sunlight are just incredible. She can't remember the last time he's looked less human or more gorgeous.

He blinks at her. "Okay…what's that face? You've gone all misty-eyed and smiley at me."

"I guess you're right," she says, "about the disguise. But for now…we have almost an hour, and you found us this _amazing _little cabin, and it would really be a shame not to take advantage of its…seclusion?"

He mock-scowls at her. "I _just _got dressed." He stands. "And now you want me to take my clothes off again?"

Her mouth curls to the side. "No, I was sort of hoping you'd let me do that."

"Uh huh. I thought we got this out of our systems last night? Twice, even!"

"Mmm, I don't hear you objecting." She grins at him, then bursts into bright laughter when he falls across her, pushing her down—she grabs him and rolls him over.

_Is it always going to be like this?_ she wonders as he smiles up at her, deep amusement warring with chagrin on his features, laughing and shaking his head at her when she just looks at him. She _hopes _it will always be like this. Familiar and still so new. Then he does something interesting with his hips that demands her attention, and her thoughts turn to other things for a while.

Some time later, he zips up the back of her dress with his toothbrush clamped in his teeth before heading back to the bathroom to spit.

"That's a new dress," he calls to her. "I don't think I've seen it before."

He hasn't. It's wool and surprisingly comfortable, an early Christmas gift from Minion. It's pretty and blue and it travels well, and they have a long drive ahead of them and she wants to feel pretty. Dressing well has always helped her mood immensely. "You like it?"

"I do." He comes out of the bathroom with the disguise back in place, wiping his hands on a towel. "Blue really brings out your eyes, and that _particular _shade goes really well with your complex-tion. The deep collar balances your profile, too, but it definitely doesn't eliminate any of your curves."

"I love having a fashion-savvy boyfriend," she remarks, and he chuckles and pulls on his gloves, strapping them around his upper arms with short, quick movements.

"You ready to head up to the house?" he asks. "All packed? I'd like to hit the road as soon as we're done breakfast."

"I'm ready if you are. Just let me get my boots on." Yet another benefit to living with Megamind is that the stuff he uses to waterproof his leathers is actually water_proof_. This is the first pair of nice boots she's been able to wear through a foot of snow without worrying. "Okay. Ready."

Breakfast sends her perception of him back into the uncanny valley as he interacts with their hosts. Maybe it's just that she never sees him at city council meetings and things like that, but she's forgotten how good an actor he is. He seems completely at ease with Bob and Lucy, cracking casual jokes and asking about business and the area, so relaxed that Roxanne finds herself laughing along, teasing him playfully about getting lost the night before, elbowing him good-naturedly in the ribs—suddenly they're like any other couple on a holiday trip across the country. When breakfast is over, he shakes Bob's hand and gives Lucy a peck on the cheek, acting quite as though they've known each other all their lives, and he even gives a farewell beep of the horn as he backs out of the drive to go back to the highway.

It takes a couple minutes before Roxanne realizes how very strange all that was, but she can't identify _why _it was odd for the life of her, which is doubly strange. "What _was _all that?"

He looks at her curiously. "All what?"

"All that back there. The joking and the laughing and the—all of it." She shakes her head. "I've never seen you like that before."

"What?" He looks at her, wearing a faintly bewildered smile. "You see me like that all the time."

"You weren't acting?" The idea honestly hadn't occurred to her. She frowns. Now that he mentions it, it had been exactly how he behaves around her and Minion and, recently, Wayne. _That's _why it had seemed weird: Roxanne has never seen him at ease around strangers. "But you seemed so comfortable with them."

"Why shouldn't I be comfortable? They don't know who I am. Even if they did, I'll probably never see them again." He shrugs, then casts her a sidelong glance. "Not everything I do is an act, you know."

"I know that!" she assures him quickly. "I'm just not used to you being you around people who aren't, well…me." She frowns. "Wow, that really sounds bad."

But he's laughing again. "No, it sounds like you know me. I hide a lot from the people of Metro because I still have a reputation to uphold, but it's all completely conscious. And, frankly? It's getting harder to maintain." A line appears between his eyebrows, and she blinks at him in surprise. She hadn't expected him to ever admit something like that. Still more amazing is that he keeps going. "I'd like to retire completely. I've already retired the supervillain persona, but the behind-the-scenes guy is still out there. I've still got info on Metro's underground dealings coming in every day from seventy or so different sources." His mouth twists. "I mean, it's all _necessary_, of course. I'll do whatever it takes to keep Metro City a clean, safe place to live. I just wish it were legal."

Roxanne shakes her head. "What exactly isn't legal about what you do?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm something of a very quiet vigilante—" He breaks off, frustrated. "I suppose, _technically_, gathering information isn't illegal. It's just that I wish I didn't have to do it. I could help the police _so much_ with what I know, but that would only make me a ton of enemies. So I guess what I'd _really _like to do is stop getting information entirely. Stop all the dealings with Lancaster and York, stop enforcing all the rules and everything and just…I don't know, buy a house in the country, or something."

"You aren't _serious_."

"No," he admits. "Probably not that; I like the city and I don't want to leave. But you know what I mean." He sighs and shrugs. "Trouble is, then the crime rate in Metro would go back to what it was before I started, and I'm not sure if I could deal with that."

Roxanne has heard _that _before, but not from him. She swallows. "So...leave Lancaster and York in charge! They'll do a fine job. They almost run the city on their own, you know that—all the criminals here are scared of _them_, not you."

"But I operate _through them_. Also, they're human! They have their own agendas."

"I'm human," she points out, "and I don't have an agenda."

"Yes, you do, you have the same agenda I do. Being happy." The little line deepens. "But that comes second to keeping Metrocity safe. No matter what happens, I need to know that I'll be able to field an army if the city ever needs one, and as long as I stand above Lancaster and York they'll mobilize together if I give the order. But if I step down, there's no guarantee that their suspicion of each other won't prevent them from doing what needs to happen should the need arise."

She holds up her hands. "Whoa, whoa. Why do you even need to do any of this? I love that you're so into keeping the city safe, but seriously, sweetie, you aren't _actually _the King of Metro. You don't need to do all this."

"It needs to be done," he replies.

"But what has the city ever done for you?"

He shrugs and says, with utter sincerity, "I don't see why that matters."

Roxanne is really, really glad he's watching the road because it means he can't look at the way her whole expression has just fallen open. Because that, right there, is the core of who he is. He keeps saying he's not a hero, he hates it when the media calls him one and he's always quick to correct anyone who makes that mistake—but Roxanne isn't sure if there's any other word for what he is. He's going through the exact same thing Wayne was going through: he's sick of the whole business and wants to retire but he doesn't dare, because he's the only one who can do what needs to be done.

"You're awfully quiet," he observes a minute later.

She swallows hard, trying to stay objective but feeling a lot of love for him. "Let me put this another way," she says slowly. "And I don't mean this as a loaded question at all, I promise. If it came down to a choice between keeping the city safe and staying with me—"

His hands tighten on the wheel. "Please. Don't."

"But that's the way you have to think about this!" she exclaims. "You deserve to be happy. If saving the city doesn't make you happy, you don't _have _to do it. I thought you hated the concept of moral obligations," she adds when his lips make a thin line and he huffs through his nose. "What about that stuff you told Wayne back when _he _was going in circles with all this? All that Latin stuff—non solum sumo tumpty bumpty, or whatever it was?"

"_Non nobis solum nati sumus_, we are not born for ourselves alone." He shakes his head. "This isn't about that. It has nothing to do with morality."

"Oh don't give me that," she scoffs. "You can't deal with knowing the crime rate is your fault? That's moral obligation all over."

"You aren't _listening _to me," he says flatly. "When I was eight days old I watched my planet disintegrate into the vortex of a collapsar. You don't think about what might happen if the Earth was just sucked out from under you some day or what might happen if you suddenly became responsible for the extinction or survival of an entire species, but I've never even taken _air _for granted. When I saw Earth on the viewfinder and knew I was headed somewhere that at least had an atmosphere, I was _ecstatic_. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To be relieved because you've just found out you'll be able to do things like _breathe?_

"And yes, it's been rough, yes, I could have had it a lot easier. But any way you look at it, Metro City is my second chance at a life that was denied the rest of my _species_." A muscle pulses in his jaw and his voice goes flat and hard as folded iron. "It's taken me a long time to reach this conclusion. A long time. I nearly threw it in everyone's faces once, but I pulled through that and I'm stronger for it, and I'm never going to take my life for granted ever again—I've lost too much. I've _gained _too much!

"That's why I stand above Lancaster and York. _That's _why I've imposed all these rules on Metro. It's…these are _my people_. Mine. Just like Metrocity is _my home_. I…" He trails off, gesturing wordlessly as he tries to work out his phrasing. "I don't see what's so difficult to understand about this. The city is my home. It's the only one I'm ever going to have. I _love _Metroci…agh, Metro _City_," he says, scowling. His pronunciation is getting better in general, but 'Metro City' still gives him problems when he's not thinking about it. Force of habit, Roxanne assumes. "I don't do this because I feel _obligated_, and I'm certainly not the only one who can do it. I do it because it needs to be done and nobody else is _bothering _to do it."

He glances over at Roxanne to find her staring at him. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" she asks.

A small smile tugs at his lips. "You said little else for nearly forty-five seconds straight this morning, as I recall," he says.

"Well, I meant it."

He smiles. "You know something?" His eyes are sparkling when he looks at her now. "I actually believe that."

She smiles back. "So I'll tell you what," she says, "you defend the city, and I'll help. Okay?"

"Why, Miss Ritchi," he drawls, dropping his voice to a purr, "are you finally taking me up on my offer to make you my Evil Queen?"

She laughs. "No. I won't be your _Evil _Queen. I will be your queen, though."

"Aww, but evil is so much more _fun_."

"Sorry, honey. Evil's a deal-breaker."

Megamind blinks, startled. "Is _that _what it was? You mean we could have gotten here years ago if I'd given up evil sooner?"

She shakes her head. "Okay, see, if I admit _that_, I'll have to admit that I was interested in you even back when you _were _evil."

He nods wisely. "Ah, I see. And you won't do that?"

"It's nothing against _you_, dear," she says fondly, patting his knee, "I just won't give my brother the satisfaction."

Megamind snorts. "I can't wait to meet him."

"He's really excited about this, too." She kicks off her shoes and snuggles into the seat, wiggling down and putting her feet up on the dashboard. "There aren't very many people who can keep up with him intellectually; I think he's looking forward to taking you for a test drive." She smirks. "He is going to be_ so mad_I got to you first."

"_Were _you interested in me when I was evil?" He doesn't expect her to answer. She never has before and, as usual, she turns an interesting shade of pink and stares out the window. "Come _onnnn_," he wheedles.

She presses her lips together and scrunches her toes against the cold windshield. "I will admit I was…curious."

He sniffs haughtily. "I shall just have to ask Drew."

"Don't you dare!"

His laugh this time is positively evil. "Why? What are you afraid he'll tell me?"

She huffs at him. "He's going to tell you a pack of dirty lies is what he's going to tell you."

"Oh, I'm _so _sure."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**Grand Junction, Colorado  
2: 13 PM Eastern Standard Time  
12:13 PM Mountain Standard Time**

"Stop here! Stop here."

He swerves across two lanes to the exit ramp. "What? What's here?"

"Colorado National Monument."

He groans. "I am _not _climbing any more hills."

"Yes, you are. Come on." She grins wickedly and holds something up for him to see. "Besides, we need pictures!"

He frowns, genuinely confused. "But why?" he asks, baffled.

"You have an eidetic memory," she tells him. "I don't. And Minion demanded pictures. Wayne threatened grievous bodily harm if we didn't bring back documentation."

"What? He threatened you? How _dare_—"

"Okay, one: I'm pretty sure he was joking, and two: he threatened _you_." She chuckles. "He said, and I quote, 'By the way, threaten your blue maraca with grievous bodily harm if he doesn't bring back pictures or videos or something 'cause I'm gonna need documentation of you guys out of the city.'"

"Maraca?" he echoes faintly.

"Because you're shaped like a stick and your head is…" She waves her hands in front of her, miming 'big.' "And if he picked you up and shook you, you would rattle."

Once upon a time, this would have sent Megamind into a towering sulk, vowing revenge. Now, he bursts into helpless laughter. "I've been called a lot of things," he chokes, "but that—that is the _best_. And now I know what to send him."

"A maraca?"

He nods, still laughing. "I'm going to paint it blue first. With a little face."

"And a goatee?"

"You know it."

The sign is brown with white lettering, set in a pile of stacked reddish sandstone, and the monument turns out to be little more than a particularly scenic view. Had it been earlier in the year, the hiking trails might have been open and they could have stretched their legs a bit more. As it is, they get some decent pictures—they have to take two because the flash is still on initially and Megamind wants to turn it off. Roxanne makes fun of him for being picky about settings when really he doesn't even need a camera until he tells her he'd been making a silly face in the first one and wants a more serious photo.

The flash goes off again, and this time there's not much he can say to Roxanne's overly-polite query of, "So what happened to being a supergenius?" other than, "Quiet, you."

"Only I'd think you'd be able to figure out how to work a camera. Give me that."

"There aren't any buttons," he protests as she takes it away from him, "it's just a stupid touch screen. And it won't acknowledge my gloves!"

Fiddling with the settings herself now, she nods indulgently. "Yes, dear. Okay, that should take care of it."

She checks the viewfinder, then sets the timer and darts back to him, draping herself over his shoulders.

The camera clicks, the camera flashes, and Megamind whirls, triumphant. "Ha!" he cries, pointing at her. Unfortunately, they're standing so close that his enthusiasm literally knocks her over. He immediately looks horrified. "Oh! Sorry!"

He reaches down to help her to her feet, and she takes his hand. Then…

"Kyaaaargh!"

He arches his back, scrabbling frantically at his collar as Roxanne dances away, dusting the snow off her gloves and ignoring his pained shriek. "_No_—getitoff getitoff—"

"Ha ha!"

"_Cold!_" With an effort, he stops hopping around and clamps his arms over his chest, glaring at her with Pavel's face. "That was evil."

She stands a safe distance to the side, grinning. "You knocked me in the snow, I dumped snow down your back. We're square."

"Square?" he repeats, incredulous and wide-eyed. "You dumped snow down the_ back of my neck_." His shoulders are slowly tilting to the left in a drawn-out, vain attempt to dislodge the melting ice. "Why don't I just stuff some in your bra, see how _you _like it."

"You wouldn't," she says, sticking her tongue out at him, "you're a good guy now, but _I_ have made no such claims. And I dare you to damage my dress. That'll hurt me _and _Minion."

He makes a funny tsking sound against his teeth, irritated. "Okay. Fair enough. But I will get you back for that!" One finger shoots into the air, waving in an agitated little circle as he leaps into a dramatic pose. "Mark my words, Miss Ritchi, you will _rue the day_you ever—"

"Crossed the likes of the criminal genius and master of all blah blah blah!" She jumps into a similar pose, complete with finger and Dastardly Smile #4, which is disturbingly similar to his own. "I know."

He drops his hand, looking distinctly disgruntled. "'Put snow down my collar' is what I was _going _to say, but if you _want _to be all dramatic I suppose that's fine."

She pulls off a glove with her teeth and goes back over to the camera. "Oh, hush. Go and change your armor. Look, let's just take the picture and get back on the road."

"I like that plan. That is a good plan." He suddenly resumes wriggling, letting out a groan of frustration. "Rrrrargh, why won't it just melt already?"

"Here," she says, finally just abandoning the camera, "let me."

He stands still and lets her scrape the snow out of his collar.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0  
**East of Green River, Utah  
4:30 PM EST  
2:30 PM MST**

"Someday," Megamind says out of the clear blue sky, "I'm going to buy that place."

Roxanne looks around, bewildered. "Wha…what place?"

"The Utah Launch Complex." He points. "It's over there."

"I don't see a launch complex," she complains, peering out at the flatter-than-flat landscape. Then she pauses. "What's a launch complex?"

He heaves a long-suffering sigh. "_Missiles_, my dear Miss Ritchi. This place was abandoned ages ago, but it's a great location. I have a secondary Lair at the bottom of the lake in case of…well, in case of things, but it never hurts to have a fortified land base as well."

"What kind of things?"

"You know," he says uncomfortably. "_Things_. Explody things."

She decides not to ask. "Okay. Well, are you hungry? I think it might be time for sandwiches."

"You mean the sandwiches Minion made us that we haven't been eating? Yes, I think so too. I'm beginning to feel guilty." He makes a face. "Supervillains don't _do _guilty."

She unbuckles her seat belt so that she can twist around and access the cooler, fishing out the Tupperware labeled 'Day 2' and rehydrating the contents. "Okay, our choices are…hmm. Ham again, salami, or…I don't know what this is; I think it's yours." Suddenly she gasps. "Oh. There's a tomato cheese one. Can I have that one? Please? I haven't had a tomato cheese sandwich since I was little."

He chuckles. "Sure, go ahead. I think the other one is probably peanut butter and bacon, I'll have that one. We'll eat the others for dinner; I want to get as much road time as possible."

"Thanks, honey, you're the best." She settles back into her seat and replaces her seat belt, squirming around until her dress is properly situated.

Megamind, who can't be as careful as he usually is because he's driving, sheds sticky bacon pieces and crumbs all over his lap, and Roxanne laughs at him. Until he points out that she has managed to get tomato in her hair, and between the two of them, that's the more impressive feat.

"I'd understand it if you had _long _hair," he chuckles. "You must have been really enthusiastic about that sandwich."

She huffs at him, but she's grinning. "We'll see who's laughing later when I kiss you with stale tomato breath."

"Me," he says immediately. "I'll still be laughing."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As it turns out, dinner coincides with a gas station break, so they head into the building to stretch their legs a little. Roxanne decides to see how the pictures turned out while Megamind speed-walks up and down the aisles; there hadn't been much time to look at them earlier, what with all the snowy shenanigans happening.

"Okay, _this _is interesting," she murmurs, gazing fixedly at the viewscreen. Megamind, on his way past the next aisle over, makes a questioning noise. She calls over, "I think I've figured out why that guy at Lucy's Place was staring so much, and we're going to have to be careful with the camera from now on."

He comes around the end by the wall of refrigerators, already curious. "Why?"

"Come here." She turns the camera so he can see. "This is me and you at the national monument."

"Looks good," he says, "I don't see a problem."

"Okay. And _this_," she continues as she hits the 'next' button, "is me and _Pavel _at the national monument."

Megamind straightens, staring. "Oh. _Oh_." His brow wrinkles into a worried frown as she thumbs to go 'back' and he looks at the first picture again. "Oh okay then."

For all the photos they've taken so far, he has been wearing Pavel. But the picture he's looking at shows him draped, beaming, over Roxanne's shoulder in all his blue-skinned glory.

He looks at Roxanne, who bites her lip. "Remember how that girl said you looked a little bit blue that morning?"

"Let me see," he mutters, clicking the right arrow a few times. "Aha! Here, look." It's him as Pavel, standing by the brown sign and grinning like a fool. "I think it's the flash. Sideways light. It only _hasn't_gone off twice, this time and the last time."

Roxanne picks up the camera and puts her thumb over the flashbulb. "Let's find out."

He nods and leans back, pulls a silly face. She laughs and clicks the shutter button, then turns the flash back on. "Cross your eyes?"

Instead he sweeps his nictitating membranes sideways and lets his mouth fall open, stretches out his hands in front of him. "Braaaains."

She's almost laughing too hard to take the picture, but a moment later there's a flash of light and Megamind drops the act with his usual split-second change.

"Okay, let's see." He takes one look and nods. It's easy enough to see that the second picture of him is blue and the first isn't. "Well, we'll just have to make sure the flash stays off from now on. I'll play around with the settings while you drive, see if I can't figure out how to turn it off permanently."

"I kind of like it," she admits as they pull back onto the highway, and he cocks an eyebrow at her. "We can take pictures of me and you together, instead of me and your human face, and no one but us will know."

"That's true," he agrees. "Well, we'll turn it back on every once in a while, then." He scowls at the touch screen, then heaves a resigned sigh and begins the tedious process of taking off his gloves.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0  
**Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah  
9:04 PM EST  
7:04 PM MST**

Roxanne yawns and blinks a few times, shaking her head and peering at the road. "You awake, sweetie?"

Megamind had put his seat back shortly before sunset some hours ago and hasn't moved since, but he doesn't sound like he's just woken up. "I am. What's wrong?"

"Did you sleep at all?" she grins, and he sits up.

"As a matter of fact, I did. For over an hour!" he exclaims proudly. "I've just been drifting since then." He squints out the window. "I see we're still driving through the Land of Flat. I kind of miss the mountains."

"You should have seen it earlier; we've been driving across the salt flats for the past hour or so. The sunset was really nice but I didn't want to wake you." She rolls her shoulders, flexes her hands one at a time. "Can we trade off driving soon? My hands are starting to cramp up and I'm pretty tired."

He nods. "Of course we can. We can trade off now, if you like—it's not like there's anybody else on the road. Pull over."

"I can wait until we get to a gas station, that's okay."

Long fingers flick over the dashboard display he'd installed weeks ago. It scrolls something back at him, and he shakes his head at Roxanne. "No," he says, "Pull over."

Mystified, she shrugs and puts on her four-ways, slowing down and driving fully off the road. Megamind opens his door. "Turn off the car and come outside," he says, but he's already out the door before Roxanne can ask him why they're doing this.

"Okay, here I am," she says, shivering a little. Her winter coat is warm, but not designed for Utah at night in December. "What are you doing?"

He's walking away from the car and the highway with a purpose, staring intently up at the sky. "Come with me," he calls over his shoulder. "We're far enough south; I want to show you something."

She shoves her hands under her arms and jogs after him, leaving little puffs of breath vanishing behind her. Megamind is walking very quickly, and by the time he stops—well beyond where headlights can reach them, had there been any other cars on the road—her ears are starting to burn with cold.

He halts without warning. "Look," he says. "Up."

She glances up, then freezes, her small discomfort forgotten. "_Oh_," she gasps. "Oh, wow."

Out here, so far away from the lights of the city—from any lights at all—there are more stars than she has ever seen in one place. It's so easy for her to forget that the major constellations aren't the only stars in the sky, that Venus and Sirius aren't the only visible lights in most parts of the world. It's so easy for her to just focus on the here and now, on the problems in her life that seem so massive and all the wonderful little joys that seem so important from day to day, week to week, month to month.

But. The sky.

Those are _all stars_, all those little pinpricks of light. Every single one of those little tiny lights is a giant flaming ball of gas surrounded by miles and miles of empty nothing, and here she is on a tiny piece of rock spinning through the blackness and looking up at it. And maybe, somewhere very very far away, _someone else is looking back_.

There's _life _out there. There are people out there, real _people _with hopes and dreams and secret fears and goals just like hers. Out _there_. In _that_.

So _this _is what it feels like to have her mind blown. She'd always thought she knew what it felt like. _I think I need to sit down._

Megamind finds what he's looking for and smiles, then turns to look at his companion. She's spinning a slow circle, gazing unblinkingly up at the night sky with her mouth open.

He grins. "Breathe," he says in a low voice, and she exhales in a rush and swallows, blinks a few times.

Then she turns that wide-eyed gaze on him. Pulls back a little and blinks again. Glances up at the sky and then wonderingly back to him, as if she's never seen him before, as if this is the very first time she's ever looked at him.

He takes a step towards her, one tentative hand coming up. "Roxanne?"

"You—" She stares at him, really actually stares. "You're _from there_." It certainly _feels _like this is the first time she's seen him. The sky above her is full of stars, absolutely choked with them, and more points of light appear every second she's looking up at them, and _Megamind_.

Megamind is an _alien_.

"You. I mean, you're—you're not even _close _to human," she says, marveling at the sheer impossibility of that fact. At him. "We're not even the same species. That's _amazing_. That's. You are an _alien_, that's _incredible_."

His face goes slack.

She inhales and looks up again at the field of light. Miles and miles, a distance so vast that it's measured in time, and the sudden crash of comprehension feels like she's just swallowed something too big and too hard to digest, like there's a hollow place in her stomach, because she _finally _gets it. He's not human. She had known that but hasn't fully understood it until now—and now she can see why he had been worried. The understanding rocks her to her core.

She looks at him again, standing there looking like he's been kicked between the legs, and the hollow place whirls into warm light and color and blood roaring in her ears. "All those stars," she whispers. "All those worlds, and you came to mine."

Her hands find his shoulder, the side of his jaw and his neck—her lips seek his, and find them. After a moment, his fingers come up and tangle themselves in her hair as his eyes slide closed.

"I _tried _to tell you," he says shakily when he finally pulls away. "I did try."

"I know," she manages, still staring into his eyes. She touches his face. "But I didn't really know what it meant. The projectors...but I think I had to see it this way for it to be real."

"This doesn't—_change _anything between us, does it?" he asks. She looks at him, her whole face lit up with wonder.

"Are you kidding?" She runs her fingers over the curve of his skull, down the long line of his throat to his narrow shoulders, skims down the ribs she knows his coat is hiding, down over his abdomen to the jut of his hips. And then back up, and down the length of his arm to his hand—the rectangular palm coupled with impossibly long fingers. "You are the most incredible person I have ever known. And you're _beautiful_. Mentally, physically, _whatever_, you're just completely breathtaking. You always have been, but _this_…"

Then she blinks. "What? Did I say something wrong?" Because his whole expression has just blown apart and then shattered back together a split second later. "Megamind, what is it?"

"You just—nobody's ever—" He shakes his head, unable to speak.

Puzzled, she tilts her head. "I told you you were beautiful two days ago. And I know I've said you were physically attractive multiple times before this."

He jerks his head from side to side. Good lord, he's actually trembling. "Yes but—standing here, you just finally _got _it, and you _still _think I'm—and you're not just saying it either, you really do _mean _that—"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she murmurs, determined to be irritated because if she isn't then she's going to cry for him and she's done that quite enough already over the months. She pulls him in against her, wrapping her arms firmly around his back. "Come here, you silly creature. Calm down."

"And—and here you are, standing there, loving me—whether or not you should; I just…"

"You know, of all the things you've ever quoted at me I think that's the most surprising? But I'm not going to sing at you. Nobody wants that." She smiles into the night, blinking up at the stars over his shoulder. "Why do you even _know _that play, honestly? And sweetie, really, I thought we were past this." The words are so simple, so casual, _how _in the name of everything can she sound this casual when her whole _being _is reeling in shock and comprehension?

"I'm _serious_," he chokes. "We _are _past this, we are, it's just that I…that you…sometimes I still can't quite believe how lucky I am."

"How lucky _you _are?" she echoes, raising her eyebrows. She lets go of him and flings her arms out to the sides, spinning away with her head thrown back. "Look at that! Look at all of that up there! You had _years _of planets to choose from and you came _here!_" She laughs, swoops in another tight circle, then drops her arms and looks at him again. "_I_ still can't believe you're worried I might leave you. I am the luckiest woman on the face of this _planet_. On the face of _a lot_of planets."

His smile breaks a little. "Look—let's not go into that now, okay?"

"What's to go into?" she asks. "We already went over this."

"I know, but we didn't really finish it," he reminds her reluctantly. "It got sidetracked."

Roxanne bites her lip and sighs, tries to drag herself back to Earth and focus. "Okay. Then—then can't we finish it now? Otherwise it's going to be hanging over my head until tomorrow, and I'll be in a bad mood and you'll be nervous, and…I'm in a ridiculously good mood, now." She frowns. "I don't know what kind of mood I'm in. But I think it's a good one. Euphoric."

"Is _that _how it's pronounced," he murmurs, then stops and looks at her for a moment. This whole 'pulling over and looking at the stars' thing has already nearly blown up in his face. Might as well go all the way, right? Better now than when one of them is driving, in case he has to end up explaining about—about one of the more fantastically stupid things he'd done. Which he probably will.

So he sighs and nods. "All right."

She pulls up a little and blinks at him. She hadn't expected him to give in so quickly. "You sure? If you _really _want to wait until tomorrow, we can—"

"No," he says, abruptly decisive. "No, we _should _do this now. This is important, it's really been bothering me and I'd like to get it out of the way with some time to spare before we get to your mom's. You and me…we work through stuff. We need to work through this, too."

She's still chewing on her lip. "Okay. Well. Like I said, I don't really know what there is to talk about. I'm not going to leave you."

He takes a deep breath and pauses, looking up at her uncomfortably through his lashes. "But we both know the possibility is there. I need you to acknowledge that for my own peace of mind."

"It really isn't, though."

"Look, Roxanne—_please_. Please, just listen to me," he tells her. "_I know_. But it could happen. And I just want _you _to know that if the reason you have to leave is that being with me is just too difficult or complicated or dangerous, that's not a silly reason. I will understand and I'll be okay. That's all. Can't you please just take that at face value?"

She shakes her head. "No! I can't. I mean, _thanks_, I guess. But I'm not going to want to quit on you!" she exclaims. "Didn't you hear anything I just said?" She cocks her head, staring at him like he's lost his mind. "What is this about, Megs? Seriously, now, this isn't the whole 'I'm an alien' thing again, is it? Because we _just _went over that two minutes ago. I get it! You're an alien! In case you haven't noticed, I'm sort of _fine _with that!"

"This has nothing to do with me being an alien," he tells her, and then his brain catches up with his mouth and he back-paddles. "I suppose it is, a little bit—but not like you think!" he adds quickly when she scowls blackly and opens her mouth. "It's the public's reaction to me being with you. It's going to be bad, Roxanne. You need to understand that."

"What's to understand?" She throws up her hands. "Yeah, the media will have a field day and people are going to be mad at us. So what? I'm not just going to quit you because of that!"

"I _told _you," he snarls, finally starting to get mad, "I've _been _there. All I'm saying is that if you wanted to, I would understand!"

"_You _didn't quit."

"Not for lack of trying."

"Then try harder next time," she snaps. Then she pauses, because Megamind's reflexive reaction to that was to burst out laughing. She blinks. "What?"

He shakes his head, positively wheezing with mirth.

"_What?_" she asks, disturbed. "What did I say?"

Hiccupping, he tries to compose himself. "You know what?" he says, looking at her, lips still twitching. "Forget it. This isn't the time. It's still too weird."

Something in his face catches her, though, brings her up short. He's still deeply amused, that much she can tell, but for the first time ever, there's something guarded hiding behind his eyes. She has always been able to read him like a book, but something made him close off.

"What did you try and quit?" she asks.

"I told you, forget it. We'll do this another time." He turns and starts heading back to the car.

Now she's starting to be worried; he's not reacting right at all. "Megamind, look, I'm sorry. I just want you to know that I really have no intention of leaving you, that's all."

He stops walking. After a moment, his shoulders slump.

"I just wish," he says, and now he sounds annoyed, "that we could have these kinds of conversations without you immediately going into Reassuring Mode. Which, for the record? is not really very reassuring."

"But I don't want you to think—"

"I am not a china doll," he interrupts tightly, turning back around. His back is ramrod straight, his heels are together, his eyes are glittering dangerously. "You are not going to break my delicate little psyche. You need to calm down, take a few deep breaths, and _wake up_."

Okay. Now Roxanne is able to place where she's seen that expression before. _Titan_. It's the way he'd looked at her when he'd told her she needed to wake up and smell the coffee, the world is not a happy place and sometimes people really are just bad people. It's exasperation. Megamind isn't upset, he's not insecure, he's not even angry—he is deeply offended and irritated and annoyed with her.

"As you know," he says, "I have been through worse than anything you could possibly do and I have come out on top. I know you're not going to just suddenly up and leave—took me long enough, but I got there—and I'm able to consider what I'd do if we ever ended up growing apart. Interestingly enough, I think I'd be fine. Sad, initially, but ultimately fine."

He cocks his hips and clamps his arms over his chest like a bar. "Life goes on, after all. So, all I'm saying—and this is _all _I'm saying—is that I am aware that such a thing is not entirely outside the realm of possibility, and if it ever happened, I would be okay. And if it _has _to happen, I want _you _to be okay and not think you have to stay with me to keep me from doing something heinously idiotic."

She flushes. "That isn't what I—"

"I didn't say it was, but that's the sense I'm getting from your inability or unwillingness to discuss this with me rationally. Frankly, it's insulting." He fidgets, glancing at her again from under lowered brows. "I have my own reasons for bringing this up, you know, and they aren't what you think. I am not suicidal."

"I don't think you are!" she exclaims.

"Just fradge-ile, then?" he shoots back, cocking an eyebrow at her, and okay, maybe he has a point. He rolls his eyes. "Right."

Then he purses his lips and squints, frowning downwards. He's considering leaving it here, she can tell—she can read him enough to know that.

"Keep going," she warns. "Keep going, because I get why you're upset with me—you're right, I'm not giving you enough credit, and I'm sorry—but I don't get why you think the public's reaction to us is going to have enough power to make me want to break up with you."

"Fair enough," he says grimly, and sits suddenly on the frozen ground. After a brief silence, Roxanne walks over and plops down beside him. Her butt immediately starts to go numb.

"I love you," he tells her. "More, I think, than you will ever know. What's more, I know you love me back. I also know how stubborn you are. I know how you love proving people wrong.

"And I don't think you're going to want to break up with me," he adds, which makes her blink and look at him. "At least, not anytime soon. People do grow apart, if it happens, it happens; I'm not _worried _about it. But you _do not know_ how bad it can get or what it's like to try to function when _everybody _is against you. It is incredibly short-sighted of you to insist with such utter conviction that you can deal with something with which you have so little experience.

"It's going to be _hard_," he tells her, finally looking at her again. "It is going to be _very _hard. You _will _lose friends over this. People will hate you. There may even be attempts on your life." He isn't joking; his face is completely open and honest—almost stern, which she hadn't expected and hasn't seen from him before. "You _can't _tell me you're prepared to deal with that, because you aren't. You don't know what it's like, and you _won't _know until it happens."

He lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head, and stares back out at the distant starlit mountains. "My point is. This is going to be emotionally exhausting for you."

"And it won't be for you?" she asks, trying to keep from sounding accusatory. Luckily, he doesn't seem to take offense.

He shrugs again. "_I've_dealt with it before, I know how to cope. You don't." It's true, loath though she is to admit it. There's a pause during which she tries to figure out a good response, but before she can think of anything he blurts out, "And that scares me."

She blinks at him, taken aback. This is the first time that she can think of that Megamind has admitted to being outright afraid of anything—as proud as he is, he must really be serious. "Well, I know it'll be hard, but…"

"But you don't _understand _it," he says. "_Trust _me. I've _been _there. I know how bad it gets. When all your peers are against you, I mean…it gets bad. You have to talk to me," he adds. "You have to tell me what you're thinking. Promise me."

"I'll always talk to you," she tells him, really astonished now and not bothering to hide it. "I'm not just going to stop talking to you."

"Yes, but if you really need to, there's—well, there's a good chance you won't want to." He offers her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I mean. I didn't want talk to Minion."

A very small alarm bell starts going off in the back of her mind. _Wait…_

Her eyes go wide as the bottom drops out of her stomach. "O-okay, sweetie? I'm trying to read between the lines there but I'm really not liking what I'm getting from that."

He heaves a sigh. "Okay. Look. I didn't want to do this tonight, but…" His restless gaze jumps skyward, jumps to her, jumps to the ground and back up to the sky. "I tried to commit suicide. Twice? When I was fifteen. Fifteen was a bad year for me. And try to remember that I actually _am _perfectly fine now," he adds. "See how I'm not freaking out at all?"

Her brain flat-lines for a moment. "_Megamind_," she says again, but that's all she's able to get out.

When she continues to gape in silence, he slumps, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Listen, Roxanne…I was going to tell you. Really. I just hadn't decided when. You don't just bring that up, right? You say something like that and people think you're a mess. Even if it happened almost twenty years ago."

There's a long silence.

"I probably should have opened with that," he mutters. "Just so you would have had a better idea of where I was coming from with all this."

"Would've been nice," she says faintly.

"It's just…I don't think you're going to do _that_, or anything, but it happened because…well, because I honestly couldn't think of any other way out. It was _never_ going to stop. I _almost _destroyed the entire human race, but then things happened and I was reminded that there are good people in the world," he makes a vague gesture and she doesn't press him, "so I just thought, no, I'll just take _myself _out instead and that'll be the end of it, that'll fix everything. You know?"

"N-no, not really."

"Well, good," he says. "On a not-completely-unrelated note, it turns out I can metabolize cyanide really, really well. But listen, please, the point I've been _trying _to make here is that I don't want you to end up _anywhere near_ where I was mentally. Or emotionally. That was a bad place. But if you're not prepared for what's going to happen, which you aren't, I'm…afraid. For you. Hal got one thing right—you see the good in people to a fault." He turns towards her, fixes her with that wide green gaze and stares her down. "But you haven't seen what I have, and _I know_ that when we go public, everything is going to explode. People fear what they don't understand, and they're not going to understand us. To make matters worse, we're public figures; we're going to smash their worldviews in a _really _big, really _loud _way. And _I_ can live with that. _I_know how to deal with that. But you…"

"But I don't," she finishes quietly, and shakes her head. "I just. I just told you that you should have tried harder to kill yourself, didn't I?"

He snorts. "Yeah, that was great."

"Of all the terrible things I could have said to you, I picked _that _one. Wow." She huffs a short, disbelieving laugh. "Okay. So. Here's my response—"

"You're crushing my hand," he says suddenly.

"Sorry!" She relaxes her grip. "Sorry. But listen, you know that as angry as everyone is going to be, it'll get better, right? The hype will die down eventually."

He scrubs his free hand over the side of his face. "Please."

"No, listen—I know. I'm sorry." She tries a different angle, one that hopefully won't sound like she's still trying to undermine his concerns. "Thank you for fighting me on this. You're doing this because you care about me and you're worried I'm going to get into a really bad mental place from all the hatred and everything, and you remember what that was like and you don't want that for me. So you're trying to explain what I need to be prepared for to give me some idea of what to brace myself against, because you know what it's like to have everyone against you. You also know that some of them will actively try to separate us, maybe publicly, they'll try to pit us against each other and make us think we can't even trust each other; they're going to want us to be so miserable together that we'll _want _to break it off."

He turns to look at her, honest surprise written in every line of his face. "Yes," he says wonderingly. "Yes, that's. That's _exactly _it."

"But you know what I'm going to do, when they try that? Because they will?" she asks, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She succeeds, mostly. "I'm going to remember tonight.

"I'm going to remember that you gave me something _incredibly_ personal just to try to explain why you were so worried about me and what would happen to my state of mind. This is the kind of thing I'd understand if you didn't want to _ever _tell me, but you did because I wouldn't listen to you any other way—and, Megamind, I'm _so _sorry."

She reaches for him, catches her arms around his shoulders and pins him against her with her fingers twisted into his coat. Her nose and mouth are buried in his scarf; she inhales hard and has to make a conscious effort not to sob when she exhales and tastes the fiery-leather smell of him. It's a strange angle to hug someone, since they're sitting side-by-side, but whatever, she makes it work.

"It—it happened a long time ago, you know that, right?" The highway and the distant stars go blurry, then clear even though she hasn't blinked—her cheeks are abruptly cold. "It's like with Washington. I am fine now, truly." He snorts, and then he's laughing. He's still laughing, after all this. "Ugh, I did _not _want to do this _today_…"

She tries to mumble something into his shoulder, but the stone in her throat jumps up and chokes her so she settles for clutching him even tighter instead. He may be fine now, but there were so many years that he wasn't and he _should _have been, _he should have been_. It isn't _fair_.

"I know," she finally manages to get out in a surprisingly level voice, gazing distractedly through the highway behind him, unable to focus on anything beyond how comfortingly solid he is in her arms. "I know you are. Now. But you weren't."

He sighs and rubs a hand through her hair. "I shouldn't have said anything," he mutters again.

"I'm glad you did." She sniffs. "Means I can tell you how incredibly happy I am that you're alive without feeling silly."

He chuckles. "I'm happy about that, too, believe it or not. Mark me, Roxanne." He puts his hands on her shoulders and holds her gently away from him, and tactfully doesn't mention her red eyes. "_I am okay_. But like I said, I want you to promise you'll talk to me. Me or Minion. Okay?"

"I promise," she says, "I will _always _talk to you. I'll never hang up on you. I'll never not talk to you after a fight. You and me. We work through things, like you said, both of us together."

"Thank you. That's all I ask." It's a lot more than he'd asked, but he hears what she isn't saying;_ I love you _rings like gunfire in every word. He cards his hands into her hair again and kisses her in full view of the highway, his breath mingling with hers and curling up through the cold air. He doesn't give any sign of acknowledging the single Buick that flies past.

"Now, can we please not talk about this anymore tonight?" he asks when he pulls away, stroking her bangs away from her face with his thumb. "I was having fun."

"That sounds good," she whispers. "Fun sounds good."

"We haven't gotten to the reason I pulled us out of the car," he reminds her.

"Right."

He stands up, pulling her with him, and turns her around in his arms. "So. Getting back to how I'm an alien and you think that's awesome. See Orion over there?"

It takes her a second to locate the constellation—usually the hunter isn't lost in a mess of other stars and usually she isn't halfway freaking out—but his belt glows as bright as always and Megamind's gloved hands are heavy on her shoulders and she nods. "Yeah. Don't tell me that's where you're from."

"Hah, no." He tweaks the short hair at the nape of her neck and she makes a noise and shakes her head. "I want you to follow the line of his belt down to the left. Do you know which one Sirius is?"

"The bright one. Now my neck is all tickly, thanks."

He nudges her, laughing in her ear. "They're _all _bright, Roxanne. That's the _point_."

She shoves back, not as hard as she usually would, but she feels him grinning against her cheek and starts to feel better. "Honey, I live with an _alien_. I think I know how to find Canis Major."

He actually laughs at that. "Keep following that line. There are three stars in almost a line, not _quite _perpendicular to Orion's belt but almost. The middle one is closer to the bottom one. They're a little hard to distinguish from the rest, but…" He lifts an arm and points to them. "That kind of a shape. About as far again from Sirius as Sirius is from the last star in Orion's belt."

She squints, trying to make sense of his cryptic instructions. "They're…okay. I see them."

"Good. Now imagine that the top one and the middle one are two vertexes of an equilateral triangle aiming to the left."

"I think I got it…"

"Now, that invisible third vertex?" he says, suddenly shy. "You can't see it, it's too dim for the human eye to pick up without a telescope—but that's where I'm from."

Roxanne's mouth falls open. "Wait, really?"

He nods. "I've never been able to show you before because Michigan is so far north. I've never seen it from this vantage, myself; I've always had to route the image through from my doom-satellite."

She puts her hands on his and leans back against him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. "I feel small."

"Puts it in perspective, doesn't it? I'm from so far out you can't even see where my house _was_."

"Past tense," she murmurs. "I'm sorry. I don't know if I've ever told you that."

"It's okay," he says. "I don't really remember."

"Liar." She turns around, finds him smiling quietly. "You don't forget anything."

"Such is life." He looks back up at the stars. "You all right?"

She takes a deep breath and offers up a wan sort of grin. "It's a lot to take in, but…I'm okay if you're okay."

"Oh, I am _more _than okay," he assures her with an easy smile. "I've been okay for a long, long time, and I've been more than okay ever since I woke up in your bed this summer and you were all cuddled up to me and warm and soft in just, agh, _all _the right places." He looks at her again, grinning stupidly. "We should get back in the car. I can't feel my nose."

She laughs. "Yeah, sitting on the ground—my butt is completely numb."

His grin turns wicked and hopeful as he links his arm through hers and waltzes her back across the flat land towards the highway and the car. "I could kiss it. Make it better."

"You have to drive." It's her turn to shove him off-balance; laughing, he pushes right back. "I know you're the king of multitasking, but even _you _aren't _that _good."

They've reached the car. Eyes dancing, he bumps his nose into hers; his is indeed extremely cold. "Want to bet?"

"Nope," she says, and ghosts a kiss across his mouth before jumping into the car.

Megamind presses his lips together, grinning and shaking his head, then takes one last look over his shoulder at the light he can barely see before getting back in the car and cranking up the heat. Roxanne is already fussing with the radio, but as soon as they find a good station she's settled back in her seat with her eyes closed, nodding along to the music.

He glances down at where her hand is tangled up with his on the center console and realizes that he's still grinning. He could be wrong, but he's pretty sure they've just covered the last of the things he'd been worried about sharing with her, and it's—fine. It's all fine, they're both fine, they've worked through it. The two of them. Together.


	6. Chapter 6

The Comfy Mountain Motel is also a real place (but I changed the name because of reasons). So is the museum they stop at later, but I took a bunch of liberties with that one because (a) I couldn't find details on what it actually has there and (b) the scene was originally written for a different museum all the way back in Colorado. Oh, and credit where it's due, this scene was entirely Karen's idea. Brilliant! Brilliant, I say!

Remember how I said I'd post whatever the voice rec software spit out if I ever sneezed into my microphone? "do me shif the fact that the pitch shift 6 if a rope"

We finally get where we're going! Again, thank you, KarenBJones, for the car trouble ideas and the bit with the turquoise. So much fun. And we finally get to meet Drew, who is also so much fun. We get to meet Linda, too, but whether she is fun remains to be seen…We're also getting into the parts I have pre-written, so with any luck updates will be a little faster coming. ^^; Sorry to keep everybody waiting, I really am!

So I'm in the USA. And on Thursday, we had Thanksgiving! Abraham Lincoln declared it an official holiday back in 1863, and the general idea is that you try to get together with people you care about and think about everything you're thankful for. Also, for some reason, turkey has become the traditional main course at dinner. I'm not entirely sure why that is. Anyway, my point is! I'm thankful for you fine folks. Anybody who reads this, I'm thankful you're here on this planet (or if you're picking up Earth's internet signal from someplace else, I'm thankful for you, too) and I just want to say that whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you believe—I'm glad you're here and that we can share this together. Peace and blessings to you, and may it be that you and yours are safe and well.

As far as Megamind and this fic are concerned, I still own nothing. Well, I own Drew. But that's about it.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Nevada  
****1:30 AM EST  
****10:30PM MST**

He's seeing signs for Battle Mountain when the car starts making odd rumbling noises. The engine is half-combustible, half-hydrogen cascading, and he pulls over without a second thought because never the twain shall meet, _or_ they shall meet and generate rather more shrapnel than is healthy for most creatures without titanium exoskeletons. As neither he nor his mate are currently in possession of titanium exoskeletons, he would much prefer that the two fuels remain separate.

Roxanne does not appreciate being woken up, but as soon as Megamind tells her there's something wrong with the car she's awake and asking questions. "Is it going to be okay? Where are we? Can you fix it?"

"I don't know, we're in Nevada, and probably." He shrugs. "If I _can't_ fix it, I can disassemble the jet pack in the trunk and jury-rig it to the de-gun to get us to Austin, which according to the GPS isn't too far down the road."

She blinks owlishly at him. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I should be fine. If I need you, I'll come get you." He gives her an encouraging smile.

The smile is too optimistic. She can tell he's faking, and she groans and puts on her boots and fumbles around the floor for her gloves. "I'll come hold the flashlight for you."

Megamind's smile flashes white in the dark interior of the car; he leans over the console and darts his head forward, brushes dry lips against her cheek. "Thanks."

She keeps her jaw clamped tightly shut and one arm like a bar across her chest as she holds the flashlight high in the dark so that he can see while he rattles around under the hood. It's _freezing_ outside, and unfortunately there is a breeze here that wasn't present back at the salt flats and the wind blows right through her. Her coat wasn't designed for this. Her _gloves_ were not designed for this. It's all she can do to keep her teeth from chattering, but she manages because if she knows if she starts Megamind will try to insist she get back in the car and she doesn't feel like bickering with him right now.

_And_ she won't complain because he left his scarf in the car and he's had to take his gloves off to tinker with some fiddly bits under the hood, and as cold as she is, as cold as _he_ is usually, his hands must be freezing off right now.

They're out there for nearly ten minutes. Roxanne's arm has gone to sleep by the time Megamind slams the hood closed and says, "C'mon, let's get b-back in the car."

They jump back inside, both of them shivering, both sets of teeth now clicking freely, Roxanne with her hands in her pockets and Megamind cradling his against his chest and slamming the door behind him with his foot. She is deeply relieved to see him turn the key in the ignition. Less relieved that it takes him two tries to grip the key. "Your h-hands," she chatters. "G-give me your hands."

Sure enough, his long fingers are like ice. She presses them between her own—which aren't _that_ much warmer than his at the moment—and rubs her palms quickly back and forth, uses friction and her slightly higher temperature to bring the circulation back. It helps dispel the numbness in her own hands as well, and when she brings their joined hands to her mouth to exhale hotly against them before resuming rubbing, he hums gratefully.

"I know sometimes y-you're a little too warm for me," he mumbles at her, "but I've decided that may in f-fact be a good thing."

"So what happened to the car?" she asks. "Are we okay?"

"Something happened to the hydrogen component, but nothing's broken. I've disabled it for the time being; she'll be good to get us down the road to Austin," he says, crawling across the seat to cuddle fully into her shoulder; she lifts an arm and he ducks under it so he can turn and lean back against her chest. She doesn't let go of his hands. "Shouldn't be m-more than an hour, but I want to take it slow. We can't take her higher than two thousand RPM. Mm. _Thank_ you."

This when she shoves her nose into his half-frozen neck. "I'm not starting a-anything."

"I know. I'm just cold, and you're very warm, and. And, in general, thank you."

She hugs him hard against her, using his body weight like an extra blanket because he may not be as warm as she is but he's still a darned sight warmer than the air around them. "What's in Austin?"

"A hotel with a vacancy, if we're lucky." He pauses, and she knows him well enough to know he's scowling. "I'd wanted to drive straight through, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. I'm sorry."

She cranes her head around and kisses his ear. "Car trouble isn't your fault."

"Yes, well, I built this accurséd machine, so that may not be entirely accurate." He makes a grumbling noise and scoots back into the driver's seat, puts the car in gear. "The bad news is that if it starts making that sound again, we'll have to turn off the heat."

"Oh, _that'll_ be fun."

They get about a half-hour out of the car before he reaches out and switches the dial to zero. He doesn't say anything, but Roxanne reaches in the back and pulls the extra blanket into the front seat, prods him to lean forward so she can bundle it around his shoulders.

_Their_ shoulders, he realizes when she unbuckles her seat belt and snuggles in against his side, tugging the blanket tighter around the two of them, and he takes a hand off the wheel so he can wrap his arm around her waist and tuck his fingers tightly between his cooler thigh and her burningly warm one. He knows he should tell her to put her belt back on, get back on her own side; he's too cold for her and she should keep as much body heat as she can to herself and driving unbelted isn't safe.

But she really is warm and he's very certain that he'll never get tired of snuggles as long as he lives, and this whole thing is _so_ completely beyond everything he'd even dared _hope_ to find in life until about a year ago that he can't help but be a little selfish. He turns his head without looking away from the road and kisses her hair, and she wriggles her shoulders and burrows in and hums and shuts her eyes.

They crawl hopefully towards the possibility of a motel.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**Austin, Nevada  
****4:02 AM EST  
****1:02 AM Pacific Time**

The Comfy Mountain Motel certainly lives up to its name, although at this point both Megamind and Roxanne are ready to sing the praises of anything warm no matter how small the rooms are. The motel is made of what looks like three mobile units placed in covered wagon configuration facing the road, but despite Roxanne's sleepy mumbled aspersions their room is immaculately clean and the bed into which they crawl is surprisingly comfortable. Megamind awards the motel bonus points shortly before he passes out.

In the morning, he wakes to the sound of high-pitched laughter and a chittering laugh track, a lispingly enthusiastic child's voice and over-done sound effects. Roxanne has the television on.

He sniffs and sits up, but what's on TV _looks_ like a G-rated acid trip in addition to sounding like one. Roxanne has her knees drawn to her chest and is hugging her feet with a nostalgic smile on her face. Megamind blinks at her and scrubs his hands down his face. He's slept longer than he usually does: nearly six hours. "What are you _watching?_"

"Sesame Street. You ever watch this as a kid?"

Megamind gazes for a moment at the little red monster capering around on the screen. "I think they tried to get me into this once. It didn't take. Is that man washing his elbows?"

She smiles. "That's Mr. Noodle. He's supposed to make kids think they're smarter than grown-ups."

"Wow," he says, staring. "Is he _ever_ going to find his hands?"

"This is like the fourth time—"

From the next room over, a deep, masculine voice lets out a frustrated yell. "_Goddammit, Mr. Noodle!_"

Roxanne bursts into peals of mirth, probably at the look on Megamind's face as much as their neighbor's outburst. "He's why I started watching this in the first place."

"Yes, and since when do you wake up before I do?" he asks. "Did you sleep all right?"

"Are you kidding? I slept _great_; this bed is amazing. We need to find out what's on it and get one for the Lair." She pats the mattress fondly, then shoots him an amused glance and frowns in mock reproach. "But I wasn't the only one who got a good sleep. _Someone_—and I won't say who—was purring really, really loudly for what I think might have been a couple hours." She grins at him. "I had an absolutely amazing dream about motorboats, thanks to you. _Whirrrrrr_."

Megamind snorts in the middle of a yawn and ends up sounding like he's about to cough up a hairball, which starts Roxanne laughing again. He sniffs and colors, then swings out of bed to hide his embarrassment and blinks down at his boots. Apparently he hadn't even taken off his shoes before falling asleep. Since when does he just lose consciousness like that? "Well, I'm going to go see about the car, see if I can fix it."

His girlfriend stretches and smiles at him. "I went and looked at it a little while ago. I think the hydro exhaust valves got stuck; there was a bunch of gunk built up around—"

He goes rigid, his faintly good mood extinguished. "You opened the hydrogen section of the engine?"

"I relubricated them, though, so they should be okay now. I think the problem was mostly that we didn't let the car warm up before we got back on the highway after the salt flats, so the congealed—"

"That is _dangerous_," he says without turning around. "You could have been _killed_."

There's a pause. "I was careful."

"Careful doesn't cut it!" he snaps, twisting around and staring at her in alarm. "Breaking the seal without electrocuting yourself is almost _impossible_ if you don't know exactly what you're doing!"

She raises her eyebrows and puts a calming hand over his. "Who fixes your brainbots?"

He pulls his hand away, irritated and confused. "What does _that_ have to do with—"

"And _how_ are they sealed?"

Comprehension dawns. She sees it and nods. "Right: the same way you seal _everything_. Face it, Megamind," she says, and pokes him gently in the chest with a finger, "you're predictable."

He grabs the finger before she can pull away, smiling reluctantly. "Not so predictable that you should stake your life on my designs. Please."

"If I _hadn't_ recognized your design, I wouldn't have opened it," she tells him. "I do actually know what I'm doing."

"_Please_," he says again, urgently this time. "Don't think I'm not impressed, because I am. Very impressed and proud that you troubleshot a modified hydrogen fuel cell without dying. You _are_ smart, you're _brilliant_; I am the luckiest man alive—" He lets go of her finger, then surges forward and clunks his head against hers hard enough to make a noise. "—But for my sake, for my peace of mind, _please _ask before cracking open or disassembling stuff that you know can kill you if you didn't at least help me put it together."

She sits back, rubbing her forehead and frowning a little at him. "Okay. Also, _ow_, Megamind, what gives?"

He winces and flutters a hand towards her before dropping it into his lap and opting for an overly-apologetic facial expression instead.

"No, it's okay, just…" She tilts her head, peering at him curiously. "Does the forehead thing actually _mean_ something to you, then?"

"What—_you_ started that, I thought you knew." His face turns puzzled.

"I did not."

"You did!" he insists. "After that really bad day we had a couple months ago, remember? I didn't want to leave but you said you'd be okay, and _you_ initiated—I wasn't going to do it at all, it's…I thought it would be too weird, I thought maybe Minion said something to you about it."

Roxanne just looks blank.

"You've—picked that up on your own, then?" he says, openly stunned, and the look on his face answers her question perfectly well: yes, the forehead thing _does_ mean something, it means _a lot_. She's seen him look lost like that before, but he's never been so stiff about it. "It's—I mean it's personal," he says slowly. "Why did you…is it a human thing, too, then?"

"Seemed like the right thing to do, I guess," she says, frowning. "I don't remember. No, I think it's just you, I think I might have picked it up watching you and Minion? I suppose I haven't really thought about it." Which, she thinks, might be kind of terrible because it's obviously important and she's just been taking it for granted. But it's his head, it's so much of who he is. It hadn't really occurred to her that touching foreheads with him would be anything but normal. "Sorry."

He flaps his hands at her wildly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water until he manages to stammer, "D-don't be _sorry!_ It's good! It's just…_complicated_." His species doesn't have very many weak spots, physically, but the few he has center on his head. His neck, strong though it is, is still comparatively thin and vulnerable when it comes to fighting; his head weighs a ton and whiplash is something he has to worry about a lot. His skull itself is relatively thick but still, his _brain_ is in there. Over the course of his life, he's had to watch not only his back but his head and neck. It's his namesake, for crying out loud; his mind is his most valuable asset. His verbal recognition of other people's intelligence is a huge compliment for a reason.

It's also what sets him apart from the rest of the sentient beings on this planet; but for the size of his brain, he might have been able to manage some kind of cosmetic that would allow him to pass as human without needing to use a hard-light overlay. In that sense, Roxanne's ease around his head holds even more significance than her unconcern with skin-to-skin contact. His skin is just a funny color, but his head is actually malformed by human standards. It's a tangible reminder of who he is and where he's from. Forehead-to-forehead contact is more than just a cute gesture; initiation on his part is a nonverbal expression that she's unbelievably important to him. Initiation on her part is…what? He doesn't know.

Roxanne has been sitting quietly and watching his face move while he thinks. "I guess I did know that it held significance for you," she says after a little while, and he glances up at her. Thinking back, she _can_ remember a few times that he and Minion had touched foreheads through the glass of Minion's dome. It was usually times that one or both of them was emotionally agitated—the first time had been after Titan, as Minion had been going into the sphere one of the brainbots had brought to the fountain. "I figured out that it calms you down pretty quickly, and if you're already calm it makes you smile. But I'm not sure I ever figured out what kind of significance it was."

"It's kind of like _I love you_," he says, troubled, "but it's different. It's…hugging, except not really, but it isn't kissing or holding hands either."

She raises an eyebrow. "It isn't _sex_, is it?"

"N-no," he stammers, focusing on her for a moment. "Although I suppose you _could_ make the argument that making love is a similar _gesture_, no, it's more…_personal_. I don't know how to explain it." He grimaces. "It's…

"No, wait, hold on," he says, his expression suddenly clearing as a thought occurs, "I was wrong before, it's actually a very simple concept. At least from a…from a _me_ standpoint. There isn't a good equivalent in your culture."

"Try," she says. It's obvious how much she really does _want_ to understand.

"Okay. Okay um." He bites his lip, pulling his mouth down at the corners and frowning in nervous inarticulate frustration before letting out an exasperated noise and squinching his eyes closed. He waves a hand, blushing all sorts of lavender and pink. "It's—mostly—your brain and mine are equally important to me."

Her heart flips over and jumps into her throat. Coming from literally _anybody_ else that statement would be comical at best, but coming from _him?_ No _wonder_ he'd been upset about her opening the engine.

He grimaces again and rubs a hand over the top of his head before letting it drop down to his side again. "Yeesh, that sounds so _corny_."

"Oh," she says blankly. "Oh. That's. Sort of what I was also trying to say?" Dammit, why is _he_ always the adorable emotional one in this relationship? He's supposed to be the smart, logical one. "Except not the brains part, exactly. You're just very important to me and I love you."

He smiles at her. "Then I guess we're on the same page, солнышко моё," he says, and she does a double-take.

"Okay, what language was _that?_" she asks. She's getting better about placing them, but she doesn't think she's heard that one from him before.

"_Solnyshko moyë_," he says again, and now that she's ready she can make out words instead of just a jumble of sounds. "It's Russian, idiomatic. Means sweetheart." _Among other things_. He stands up and stretches, then pulls Roxanne to her feet. "Okay, let's get this show on the road. Maybe we'll get to your parents' house before dinner."

"Russian, huh?" she says as he starts up the car. "You don't use that very often." Still, he must be fairly fluent; he doesn't throw around phrases from languages he isn't at least conversational in. And he's never used them for pet names before, at least not that she can remember.

"No," he agrees. "No. That one is…special to me. Like isiZulu, but Uncle Guduza was never the verbally affectionate type so I don't have many terms of endearment in that language. We never really focused on romance, you know? He was pretty reserved."

She tilts her head. "So why is Russian your romance language?"

"I…" His eyes are distant and he's laughing, shaking his head. "Her name was Gala."

"Oh?" Roxanne sits forward, smiling expectantly at him. "Do tell?"

"There's nothing to tell, I was in eighth grade!" he exclaims, still laughing embarrassedly. "She was the new girl. Her father was a diplomat, and…and she would sit with me at lunch so I could check her math. That's all."

"Come onnn," she whines at him, "I know there's a story in there somewhere. It's written all over your face."

He sighs. "I'd already learned the basics of the language so that I could thank Niko properly after an altercation in the cafeteria went bad. He took a knife for me, and—"

"Whoa whoa, someone tried to _knife_ you? Weren't you just a kid?"

"Hardly," he snorts. "I was already twelve or thirteen at the time. The Aryan Brotherhood had it in for me from day one," he says shortly, then grins and nods at the bandage he's still wearing on his arm. "Told you I've had worse than this. Anyway, I learned some Russian then as thanks. He saved my life; trying to give him someone who spoke his language was the least I could do, and he earned me some friends in the Solntsevskaya further down the line."

Roxanne doesn't ask what that is. Experience and common sense have taught her that when Megamind talks about things in prison that earned him 'friends' in groups with funny-sounding names, he usually means organized crime.

"I didn't know if Gala spoke English, so the second day she sat with me I tried to tell her that she should sit somewhere else if she ever wanted friends. She just passed me her homework and asked if she'd done it right. A day or so after that, she told me that I talked like a convict and I had to explain that the only native speaker I'd been able to practice with was an arms dealer."

Roxanne winces. "I bet she took that really well."

"I was scared to admit it, but she didn't even bat an eye." He shrugs. "Anyway. I think that was right about when I started getting angry with the world. Up until that point I'd pretty much convinced myself that the reason everyone avoided me was because I was an alien, not because they hated me personally or anything."

"But then this girl comes in and doesn't seem to care where you were from?" Roxanne says, nodding. "I can see how that would make things difficult for you."

"Well, after that I couldn't really deny that the other kids were picking on me because they _wanted_ to, instead of it being my fault for breaking some kind of unspoken social rule." He grimaces, drums his fingers nervously on the wheel. "A little while later somebody tried to tease her about her clothes or something, something stupid, and…well, I came down kind of hard on them. And it just went downhill from there, if anybody came after me or her…I mean even if they just _looked_ at us the wrong way, I retaliated. _Entirely_ disproportionate retribution."

"What…"

"Eh, just threats and blackmail, mostly," he tells her with another shrug. "But pretty heavy stuff when you consider that it was middle school. _And_ I wasn't afraid to follow through. First lesson of villainy: never threaten to do anything you can't or won't deliver. But Gala was smart, she figured out what I was doing and cornered me about it a few weeks later. I told her the score, told her I'd had enough of people constantly belittling me, and that I'd had enough of them doing it to her, too. She nodded, thanked me, and then said that she could handle herself and if I was dead set on being hateful and mean then she wasn't going to associate with me either. I told her I was, we expressed our regrets and went our separate ways. The end."

Roxanne settles back in her seat, frowning contemplatively. That wasn't the kind of story she'd been expecting when he said 'her name was Gala,' but she always enjoys hearing about Megamind's past. "You were a really different person, huh?"

"Oh, yes. Vastly. I am extremely glad you never met him." He sends her a sheepish smile. "I know you said it was too bad we didn't go to the same shool, but it's probably a good thing we didn't."

She looks at him for a long moment, trying to imagine him slouching and surly, bitter and hateful. It just doesn't work. "Well, who you are now is a love."

"I just hope I don't backslide," he says abruptly. "Being a villain in self-defense was so much _easier_."

"Honey," she says firmly, "listen to me. When people start giving us grief, feel free to pull whatever you want on them as long as you're sure it won't get you sent to jail." He doesn't look away from the road, but his eyebrow slides up in a silent question. She quickly adds, "I'd prefer it also not damage your new reputation, but that's up to you, to a point. Just because you're a good guy now doesn't mean you can't defend yourself!"

His brow furrows. "I suppose you're right," he murmurs. "Libel, slander…I'm not a lawyer, myself, but I'm sure we'll be able to work out some kind of…of _something_ if we have to."

She laughs. "Oh, don't worry about _laywers_. Between Peter and Wayne? We are _set_."

He looks at her in open surprise. "Peter? Are you still in contact with him?"

"Occasionally, not often," she shrugs. "Birthday and Christmas cards, mostly, although we did meet for lunch a couple months ago and I got to meet his new daughter." She blinks, suddenly concerned. "Is that a problem? I can't remember if I told you about that or not, it was kind of a busy week."

"You didn't mention it, but it's not a problem. Why would it be a problem?" It's a rhetorical question; they both know why. They also both know that it isn't.

"I just meant is it a problem that I forgot to tell you," she elaborates, and his puzzled expression clears.

"Oh! Well, of course I like to know what's going on in your life," he shrugs, "but it's not like you're actively hiding anything from me. No problems here."

Roxanne starts to reply, then promptly loses track of what she'd been about to say when he pulls onto a side road. "Where are we going now?"

"There was a sign for some kind of historic museum. Can we go? We went to that place in Colorado."

She grins at him. "Oh, why not? It's a road trip, after all."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They spend over an hour there, but neither of them really minds. It's a fascinating little place, less of a museum and more of an old restored village complete with church, general store, schoolhouse, and barbershop. They end up trailing after a group of schoolchildren for a while, listening in on their tour until Roxanne finally gets tired of Megamind muttering about 'historical inaccuracies.'

They're browsing through the gift store on their way out when she loses track of him. Confused, she wanders back towards the exit and finally finds him crouched in front of small display of turquoise jewelry. "What'd you find?" she asks.

He jumps nearly out of his skin, letting out a startled yelp. "Nothing!" he exclaims, hiding something behind his back.

Amused, she swats his arm. "What's that in your hand?" she grins. "I wanna see!"

"I-I-I," he says, then clamps his mouth closed, clearly having decided to shut up. "Pick a hand."

"The right," she says immediately, because she knows he's ambidextrous but his left hand is stronger; he probably wants her to pick that one instead. Shifty-eyed, he shows her an empty palm. She gives him a dirty look. "You switched them."

He aims a scowl at her that would have made another woman back away, but it only makes her cock an eyebrow and smile. "Miss Ritchi, you know me entirely too well," he grumbles, and dumps something small and round into her hand.

Roxanne blinks down at the little silver ring, then back up at him. He's standing very still with a weird flinching expression painted across his face, and she hides a grin. The silver wire detail around the turquoise stone _is_ rather pretty…

She slips it onto the ring finger of her right hand, smiling when it fits. "You like this one?" she asks lightly. "_I_ like this one. I think it might actually match my boyfriend."

Megamind huffs a relieved laugh. "It might. Do you want it?"

"I do," she says, and laughs at how that makes his expression twist; they're both thinking the same thing. "But I will say this," she adds, and he raises his eyebrows, "if you _do_ propose to me I am probably going to expect more than a fifteen dollar ring from a tourist attraction."

He blushes to the tips of his ears but manages a pretty convincing scoffing sound. "Are you kidding? You're getting the Hope Diamond if I ever propose."

She frowns at him, but she's grinning. "Isn't that supposed to be cursed?"

He shrugs. "There's a necromancer—here in Nevada, actually—who I know would be willing to take a look at it. Even if he can't do anything about it, he's sure to have connections."

"Look at _this_ one," she says, and he blinks down at it. It's a man's ring, heavy and broad, with a large oblong stone inlaid with straight silver lines. He glances at Roxanne; she gives him a pointed smile. "The silver looks a little like lightning."

Megamind is getting a lot better at picking up on and dropping hints. He takes it from her and puts it on, following her lead in terms of finger placement. His hand flickers for a second as the disguise generator incorporates the new overlay, then settles with the image of the ring blinked into existence over his finger. He looks at it, amazed. "Whoever makes these things must have _tiny_ hands. I can't imagine there are very many men's rings in size five."

"I guess we're just lucky."

"It's not luck," he says, with the ghost of his old evil smile. "It's _desssstiny_."

_I think there must really be something wrong with me_, Roxanne thinks as they walk back out to the car, hand in hand. _Matching rings? I hate all this sappy mushy stuff. Or I used to. So why do I feel so happy?_

He squeezes her hand and she looks over at him, already smiling.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The plan is to drive straight through the rest of the way to San Francisco—they do a pretty good job of sticking to that plan, too, though Megamind is privately considering another road trip in the future without a set destination in mind. Or, if they have a destination, no time constraint. That would probably be more fun than going a bunch of places and then having to leave before they're ready.

Shortly after making it through the Sacramento traffic, Roxanne's phone starts ringing. At this point, she's the one in the driver's seat, so Megamind is the one who glances at the caller ID and answers the phone.

"Wait, who _is_ it?" Roxanne asks belatedly, but he's already talking, grinning broadly.

"You've reached the reporter and the physicist, guess which one this is!"

Her eyes go wide. "Is that my brother?"

"Hey, great to hear from you, how are things? …Yeah, we're only about an hour out according to the GPS."

She squawks and grabs at him with one hand. "Give me the phone!"

He leans away, smirking. "Focus, Roxanne, you're driving! No, I…what? Oh." He puts his hand over the mouthpiece and hisses, "_It's for me, anyway!_" so that she'll stop batting at his elbow. "Hmm. Is this for that freelance project you mentioned a while back? …No no, I completely understand." He pauses. "Yeah, sure I'll try and help, it would be nice if you could get home early. Ssso." He slouches down in his seat and puts on his thinking face, the studiously blank one where his eyes flick back and forth like he's reading something. "Trying to block individual neurotransmitters is going to be really hard; if your client wants a drug that works _quickly_ you're going to need some kind of catch-all and, frankly, I don't know if that's even possible—

He blinks and sits up a little. "No, I _know_ you know that's the problem, I'm just—oh for the love of Albert, will you _shut up_ for just a second, I'm trying to_—_what?" He's quiet for a moment, frowning in thought as Drew explains. "Okay. Okay. Have you tried inhibiting the calcium channels?"

This time, Drew's voice is clearly audible: "_Course I have, dumbass_."

"Right, of course—give me a minute." He massages the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes.

There's a pause. Only a few seconds, but Megamind's brain covers a lot of ground in just a few seconds and it's _almost_ the same as a minute, kind of. Megamind-to-human-standards conversions are fairly subjective.

"Well, how about reducing the connectivity of the synaptic vesicles?" he asks. "That might work. What?" He frowns. "Wait, why not?"

Roxanne, who has been listening to this one-sided exchange with some amusement, suddenly does a double-take and looks over at him in surprise. He'd been _wrong?_ He'd been wrong about _science?_ It shouldn't be _so_ surprising; Megamind isn't exactly specialized in neurobiology, but still, she isn't used to him being wrong about science at all.

He's curled up against the window now with the phone clutched against his face and his index finger jammed in his other ear, scowling into nothing, his eyes flicking rapidly back and forth as though reading some invisible text document floating in midair. And then he says the impossible: "No, I _don't_ see, explain it again and explain it _better_. Because if it isn't that, then I don't know what the problem—lissencephaly isn't something you can just induce _temporarily_—" He breaks off, blinking, and then his features contort and he actually hisses into the phone. "Oh shut _up_, I'm a _physicist_, not a neurobiologist, what did you expect? Just because mine is bigger doesn't mean I need to know how it works, so get down off your intellectual high horse and—several more than _you_, that's for damn sure. Yes, _several_." He suddenly looks guilty. "N-no, I didn't just hiss at you, don't be silly.

"Look, can we focus, here?" he asks desperately. "What about the usual monoamines? It's a little obvious, I admit, but norepinephrine, histamine, serotonin, haven't you tried those yet?"

He listens for a second, then throws his free hand into the air in consternation. "What do you _mean_, 'he has to remain conscious'? You're trying to temporarily limit cognitive activity, _of_ _course_ he's going to pass out! Hey, don't blame _me_, this is so far from any of my areas of expertise it's not even funny. But you really weren't kidding, this one's a real dwoozy." He bites his lip, and Roxanne can almost see the wheels turning in his brain.

When he finally speaks again, he sounds slower, almost uncertain. "Maybe we're thinking about this wrong. Maybe…maybe we need to be looking at the bigger picture. What about…could you do something with the postsynaptic density?" He sounds very tentative about this. "Make it…less dense, or something? I don't even know how something like that would _work_, but…" Then his expression clears and he sits up straighter. "Oh! Good! Well, try it then and let me know how it goes. Okay. Yes, I'm glad I could help too. Hurry and get home, I want to see you."

He closes her phone and stares at it.

"Well," Roxanne says into the silence that follows, "that sounded productive!"

Megamind's voice is low and utterly serious. "Your brother is far more intelligent than I gave him credit for." He looks over at her. "We're going to have to be careful."

"Sweetie, if you'd ever studied neuroscience you would have thought of a solution like _that_," she reminds him. "He's not smarter than _you_."

"You think _that's_ what I'm worried about?" He grins grimly. "Roxanne, _nobody_ is smarter than me. But that was the first intellectually two-way scientific conversation I've had with a human since Uncle Dexter overdosed."

"Does this mean I'm no longer the smartest person you know?"

"You'll always be the smartest person I know," he tells her with an involuntary little smile. "There's more to smarts than just book learning. But my point is, he's_ really smart_, and I might say or do something that could tip him off to who I am."

She tries not to laugh, but only succeeds in turning it into a snort. Megamind blinks, surprised. "Oh, hon. Even if he does figure it out, which I don't think he will because he's never been really _serious_ about us ending up together, it was all just teasing, it's not like he's going to say anything to my mom about it. He's not a _total_ idiot."

Megamind fidgets. Logically, he knows she's right. From his correspondence with Drew, he's learned that the man actually holds him in fairly high esteem. But respecting a blue, badly-proportioned alien intellectually from a distance isn't the same as learning that he's dating your sister, and he says as much to Roxanne.

"Listen, this sounds like it's really bothering you," she says, her lips twitching, "but it really doesn't have to. Drew is even more romantically colorblind than I am."

"But I'm an _alien_," he says flatly. "Are you seriously telling me that won't affect his view of me at all?"

"If it does, it'll be points in your favor," she replies. "You won't be the first outworlder to show up for dinner on the arm of a Ritchi. Ganeesh was even less human-looking than you."

"Ganeesh?" He blinks several times, very rapidly. "Wait, Ganeesh ku Aea?"

"Why do you think I've always been so surprised that my mother seems to hate you because of your heritage?" she asks, ignoring the way that his eyes are bugging out of his head. "It doesn't make sense at all. She was fine with Gan."

He stares. "Th-they're not outworlders, they're native to…hold on, _you met_ an amphibious tentaculon."

"Yeah, ku was nice. Very polite. A little on the slimy side, but that was to be expected." She tries not to smirk, but it's not every day that she gets to shock Megamind so completely.

"And not just any amphibious tentaculon. You met the most _influential non-human researcher_ on this _planet_ and you never _told me?_"

"Shame it didn't work out," she says mildly. "Drew's never been one for long-distance relationships and since humans can't survive the water pressure in Challenger Deep and tentaculae tend to desiccate if landed for too long…"

"No, you don't understand," Megamind says urgently, "I had a _long_ correspondence with kin Dval—one of ku Aea's fellow researchers—back in the day. Most of it was formal, strictly business, I was worried about the ethical dilemmas inherent in creating intelligent machines. But anyway, kin said I was young and should be focusing on finding a suitable mate and I made some crack about my physical appearance, and kin mentioned at one point that a friend of kirs had been seeing a human male named Andrew despite the species and gender differences. You have got to be _kidding_ me. He's _that_ Drew?"

She shrugs. "It's a small world. Amoral, irritatingly hyper-competent beings tend to find each other. You're missing the point, though—the point is, my brother honestly isn't going to care where you're from as long as you have a brain in your head and a decent sense of humor. And you have both of those!"

It's Megamind's turn to snort. "I was not under the impression that his sense of humor is 'decent.'"

"I don't get his jokes very often, so I wouldn't know." She shrugs. "Either way, you've got a really strong ally there. My dad is another possible ally, if he shows up."

"I don't want it to be the four of us ganging up on your mom, though," he complains. "That'll come across like I'm trying to pit her family against her. And between you and me, I think that's what she's really worried about."

She bites her lip. "I suppose that's possible. She's mentioned a few times that my uncle was abducted by aliens when she was a little girl, so…it would make sense."

"Especially since they're twins," he adds. "I'm told there's often some kind of special connection there."

"What?" Roxanne blinks. "Oh—no, not Uncle Eric. Rodland, their older brother."

Megamind goes very still. "I was not aware that Rodland and Eric Allbright were related," he says faintly. _And it's a good thing that little fact didn't show up in the background check_, he thinks. "That's. Interesting."

She peers at him, curious, then has to look back at the road. "Something wrong?"

He bites his lip, closes his eyes. Frowns hard and shakes himself. _Get it together. This is destiny; there's no other explanation for all these coincidences_. When he speaks, he sounds completely calm. "No," he assures her. "Nothing's wrong. I was just surprised, I didn't know you two were related. He's, what…Under Secretary of Homeland Security for Science and Technology, right?"

"Oh!" She looks over at him, then back at the road. "Oh, I didn't think—do you know him?"

"No," he says quickly, glad that she's driving and can't spend too much time looking at his face. Destiny or not, he is very much startled and worried and not sure if he's hiding it very well. "No, we've never met. Is that how your parents met, though? Does your father work with him?"

She half-smiles. "Yeah, actually, it is," she exclaims. "How'd you guess?"

"The government isn't that big a place," he says dully. "People tend to know each other."

"Huh," she says.

There's a long pause. Roxanne isn't focusing on the silence or Megamind, she's thinking about how she's almost home for the second time in as many months after several years of not seeing her family. It's going to be stressful, but she can't help but be a little excited.

"Do you think she'll realize it's me?" he asks after a while. "Do you think she'll figure it out on her own?"

Roxanne shrugs. "That's possible. Anything's possible. I doubt it, though; I don't think it would occur to her that I would go so far as to _date_ you."

"Perhaps not." He shakes himself and turns to scowl out the window. "I just wish I knew what her motivations are."

She snorts. "Her motivations are, she hates you. Simple."

"Yes, but _why?_" he persists. "Why does she hate me _so much?_"

"Sweetie, you made a career out of aiming missiles at her daughter's head," Roxanne reminds him patiently. "I'd probably hate you, too."

He huffs. "_You're_ a lot of help."

"Well, what she doesn't understand is that _I_ made a career out of you aiming missiles at my head, too. Anyway, we're almost there now," she says with loads of false cheer. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Megamind slumps. "Joy."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The house doesn't look very imposing from the front—it looks almost hilariously normal, compared to what Megamind is are used to. White siding, blue trim, blue door with a wreath. It has a spacious front porch, and when Roxanne finally pulls up to the curb Megamind can see a man with an unexpectedly long ponytail lounging on one of the chairs. His head is thrown back, limbs sprawling in every direction. He appears to be sleeping.

_This is it_, he thinks, wishing he were anywhere else, but it's too late; Roxanne is already out the door, the keys in her hand. He can't really blame her. As much as he's worried about the upcoming week, he's anxious to be out of the car.

The man on the porch sits bolt upright when Roxanne crawls out of the passenger seat and slams the door behind her.

"Anne!" he exclaims, bounding out of his chair. Megamind blinks and squints; he really hadn't expected to see the beard. Or for Drew's nose to be quite…that shape, whatever that shape is.

Roxanne turns. "Andie!" she cries, and races up the steps and flings herself into hug that makes the tall man stumble back, laughing.

He scowls at her, trying to ignore the dark-haired man climbing slowly out of the car on the street and mostly succeeding, though his gaze does flicker in that direction a couple of times. "I _told_ you not to call me that."

"And I told you not to call me Anne, but you never listen. I see you still haven't shaved." Roxanne laughs. "Listen, I'd like you to meet—"

"Hold it." Drew lets go of Roxanne and stands at the top of the stairs with his arms folded and a stern expression on his face. Megamind blinks up at him, then down at his hands to make sure they're still reassuringly pink. They are.

Drew's eyes narrow. "So, chemical superagents and supervillains. This one agent, (O-O)7," he begins, and Megamind blinks a few times, "he gets caught by the nefarious evil genius, Dr. Nitrogen Monoxide, who's set a trap for him. Our hero finds himself stuck in a piece of white cotton. He calls out, 'Do you expect me to talk, NO,' and Dr. NO replies—?" Here, Drew stops and waits expectantly.

Megamind frowns warily, then grins, knife-sharp. "No, Mr. Dye," he calls, and Drew beams and bounces eagerly on the balls of his feet. "I expect you to _bond_."

Roxanne peers from one to the other. "What are you two _on?_"

Behind his sunglasses, Megamind raises an eyebrow. "_Science_."

Drew skips down the steps, two at a time, hand already outstretched. "Drew Ritchi. You _must_ be Pavel."

Megamind laughs and shakes his hand. "It really is a pleasure to _finally_ make your acquaintance."

"Are you two going to be like this the whole time?" Roxanne calls down from the porch, hands on her hips.

He glances up at her, slipping off his sunglasses and putting them in his pocket. "We'll try not to be totally incomprehens-eeble the _whole_ time."

"Speak for yourself. But _anyway_," Drew says, bouncing again, unable to contain the broad grin splitting his face, "it's good to finally meet you too, _Pavel_."

Megamind looks up at him sharply, sees the grin, recognizes it for what it means. His mouth falls open. "What, _seriously?_"

Drew laughs and jerks his head towards the house. Megamind follows him up the steps, feigning outrage the whole way. "I don't _believe_ this. How long?"

Drew is still laughing, shaking his head. "Oh, like I _didn't_ know who the caffeine was for! Dude, everybody knows what your coffee intake is like, you think people didn't notice when you stopped drinking so much?"

Roxanne reaches between them as they come onto the porch and grabs her brother by the elbow. "Does Mom know?"

He grimaces. "She-ee. _Suspects?_ I really don't know; I've tried not to talk to her about it too much—you know how she gets. Sorry, man, the eyes and voice are going to be a huge tip-off."

Megamind looks at Roxanne. "Disguise watch on or off?"

She stares at him. "You're asking _me?_"

"I'm asking you," he says firmly. "You know her best. Which will make a better impression: trying to hide, or facing her?"

"_Nothing_ you do is going to make a good impression," Roxanne protests, but Drew interrupts.

"My advice? Face her, watch off." Megamind and Roxanne look at him. He shrugs. "She won't see it as bravery—at best, she'll call you stupid or naïve, at worst she'll say you were too ashamed to even _try_ to hide, but you can phrase it to your advantage and use it against her when she finally snaps later on."

Megamind nods once and moves to turn off the disguise, but Roxanne grabs his wrist. "Wait."

"What? Is he wrong?"

She hesitates, then reluctantly lets her hand fall to her side. "No, just…"

Slowly, Megamind lets go of the watch. "You're right. It doesn't sit well with me, either." Then he turns and faces the house, squares his shoulders. "So we'll do this _my_ way. Theatrics."

His determined pose might have been impressive if Drew hadn't sniffed and rubbed at his beard—which really is longer than it has any right be; Megamind will have to ask him about that—and said, "Oh, sure. _That_'ll go over real well."

He pauses and deflates a little. "You don't think it's a good idea?"

Drew looks to Roxanne. "Is he dramatic with you? Crowing and dancing?"

"Not usually."

"If you're going to tell me to be myself, save it," Megamind warns. "That's never worked for me."

Drew smirks. "Well, I don't know about that one. My sister is pretty picky."

Roxanne slips an arm around Megamind's waist, and he flushes slightly. "Ah. Yes."

"It's up to you, sweetie," she murmurs, trying to hide the fact that her stomach is churning with anxiety. "Keep it on, or take it off."

Megamind is silent for a long moment, then shakes his head. "Let's keep it on for now. I'd like to try and get a feel for her, first." He shoots a nervous glance up at Drew. "Do you think that's okay?"

"Hey man, don't look at me. It's a powder keg no matter _what_ you do." He bumps the smaller man gently with his elbow, trying for reassuring. "But hey! You've already got me and Roxie on your side, right? That's gotta count for _something_, right?"

"I'm fairly certain Roxanne doesn't count, in this instance," Megamind mutters. But he sighs and nods. "Well, then, let's do this."

Perfect timing; that's just when the door swings open and a woman with iron-grey hair appears behind the screen. "Well, are you three going to stand out there jawing all night or do I get to say hello, too?"

Drew spins on his heels, his usual sunny smile plastered across his face as his mother comes out and gives Roxanne a warm hug. "Ma, look, I found a nerd!"

"So I see." Linda Ritchi is smaller than her daughter is and she has none of Roxanne's curves, but when she pulls away and turns to look at Megamind he sees that the facial resemblance is striking regardless. Her eyes are brown instead of blue, though. "I probably ought to be nervous about a week with _two_ scientists in the house, but," a smile softens the lines of her face; she has Roxanne's smile and he feels a little bit better, "that's the first time I've heard anyone respond to one of Drew's jokes in kind. I suspect this week will be interesting for all of us. Well, let me look at you." Behind her, Roxanne rolls her eyes and Drew's shoulders shake with silent laughter.

Megamind stands very still, his heart pounding. The other two are making it obvious that this is something that's happened before, many times and is nothing to worry about, but Linda is the person he's really hoping to impress. It goes without saying that he's nervous as hell. He's also not used to prolonged eye contact, and the old woman isn't exactly looking him up and down; she's staring at his eyes like they hold the key to the universe.

It doesn't help his nerves that after a few seconds, Roxanne's smile fades and she says, "Mom?"

"Well, you're a snappy dresser, I'll give you that," Linda finally proclaims. Megamind relaxes slightly, though he has to wonder when she had noticed his clothes. "Come on inside, you both must be starving."

"I'm hungry too," Drew says, and Roxanne and Linda respond in unison, "You're always hungry."

Megamind blinks. Even the inflection is the same. _Weird_.


	7. Chapter 7

A short chapter this time so that it could end at the right place! The name "Mr. Meanscary" is not mine, it is from an absolutely delightful comic called Wondermark and if anyone from there wishes me to change this, just ask and I'll change it.

Next chapter will hopefully be up soon, now that finals are winding down. My goal is to post the actual Christmas part of this fic on or near the holiday—we'll see if that works out!

Cheers, my dears. As always, you are beautiful and special to me, and I love you. I can't believe we've come this far, but here we are!

I own nothing but Drew.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Watching Linda, Drew, and Roxanne prepare dinner, Megamind is struck by how very similar they all really are—it's his first opportunity to really observe human familial resemblance close up, and he's fascinated. Linda's eyes are a different color and her nose is broader than her daughter's, but the square shape of the face is the same. Drew, on the other hand, has blue eyes like Roxanne's, but his face is more rectangular than square and he towers over his mother and sister despite his slouching. His nose was probably broken at some point and healed crooked, but even so, Megamind can tell that he doesn't get his nose from Linda and it looks nothing like Roxanne's, either. All three of them have the same hands.

Both Roxanne and Drew treat their mother with deference, and all three operate more or less as one unit—the whole affair revolves around Linda, with Roxanne and Drew preparing ingredients and passing her things when she asks for them, the routine as neat and coordinated as a surgery. When Megamind asks if he can help, they chorus "No, you're fine," so disconcertingly in unison that it's clear they've been asked this many times before.

So he sits at the kitchen island and watches them work, instead. He listens to the in-jokes and catalogues them for possible future use in conversation, all the time paying close attention to the group dynamic. It's not what he had expected at all. From what Roxanne has told him of her mother, he had been expecting a scowling, suspicious woman with a sharp temper. Linda is stern and has a no-nonsense air about her, but she's quick to smile.

"You're awfully quiet, Pavel," she says out of the blue, and Megamind jumps. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"None of you have the same nose," he blurts, then colors. Drew turns a snort into a hasty cough. "I mean—I was just noticing the family resemblance, that's all."

"Yes, well." Linda dices peppers with the surety of a master, heel of one hand on the point of the knife to keep it on her cutting board while chop-chop-chopping with her other hand almost too quickly to see. "Drew takes after his grandfather—my father—height-wise, and he gets his nose from my husband. We aren't sure where Roxanne's is from. Could you pass me the whisk—it's in the top drawer on your left."

_Whisk?_ He opens the drawer, hoping it will contain _only_ a whisk, but of course it's full of cooking utensils. He recognizes spatulas, but that's about it.

Linda glances up, sees him staring, frozen, into the drawer. "Wire thing shaped like a weather balloon."

Drew chimes in. "Or an s-orbital, take your pick."

"Ah!" He brightens immediately and hands it to her with a relieved smile. "Thank you, I'm not very good with…with kitchen impell-ments."

"I take it you don't cook much?"

"I am a danger to myself and those around me," he tells her. "And believe me, I've _tried_. My cooking capabilities are pretty much limited to sandwiches, toaster waffles, and canned soup." He frowns and pulls something else out of the drawer. "What is this? It—isn't a Tesla coil, is it?"

Drew sends a cursory glance in his direction. "Another whisk."

Megamind looks at what Linda is doing with the first whisk, then at the one he's holding. "This one would be good for things in…pots, right?" he says slowly. "Because it's flat and can reach into edges?"

"Fast learner," Linda says to Roxanne, who grins.

"He is."

There's a rattling noise as Pavel puts the second whisk back and takes something else out. "And this thing is a…handheld…heating coil?" He sounds highly dubious. "Without a plug?"

Linda looks up and has to stifle a laugh – the dark-haired young man is brandishing a potato masher as if it were a sword.

"For branding meat?" he murmurs, changing his grip and making a stabbing motion with it, tilting his head. "You can do that, right? That's something cooks do, burn designs into, what…steaks? But I thought grill marks were supposed to be straight."

"It's for mashing potatoes, hon," Roxanne tells him, struggling to keep a straight face. Pavel looks at her, totally astonished and not bothering to hide it.

"It's for _what?_ _How?_"

"You boil potatoes until they're soft, then put them in a bowl with some milk and butter and stuff, and you smash them," Drew says, miming. Pavel's whole face lights up.

"That sounds like _fun_," he declares, staring at the masher with shining eyes, and Linda honestly doesn't think he's joking.

"Well, if you want to try it, I'd be happy to teach you," she says, lips twitching, and darned if Pavel doesn't look like Christmas has come early.

"Really?" he says, somehow managing to look and sound even more enthusiastically delighted than before. "You would? Really?"

"Sure," Linda says, and Pavel hunches into a happy little ball for a moment, grinning so hard his smile looks like it might leap right off his face. He puts the masher back in the drawer.

"That would be _fantastic_," he tells her, folding his hands carefully in front of him. Roxanne hadn't been kidding when she'd said he was an open book—he talks with his whole body. He looks so _happy_. Linda is very sure she's never seen anyone look so pleased at the prospect of learning how to mash potatoes. "I will try not to set anything on fire," he adds quickly, his whole expression turning to one of startled worry. "The last time I tried anything with _ovens_, well—we never did get the scorch marks out of the ceiling."

"Is _that_ how those got there?" Roxanne exclaims. Pavel nods, chagrined.

"It's why Min-_nnn_." His eyes go very wide and he freezes for a moment, and then his body spasms and he bursts into a fit of coughing. Roxanne rolls her eyes and passes him a glass of water, which he accepts gratefully and downs in one go. "Minnie," he says as soon as he can breathe again. His voice is rough, and he clears it. "It's why Minnie never lets me try new recipes."

Linda blinks at him, but he looks like he's all right now, so she doesn't ask. "Who's Minnie?"

"Pavel's housemate," Roxanne answers. "He works from home and he doesn't make much money, so they've worked out a system where Pavel pays for the house and takes care of the bills and Minnie is in charge of the chores and the cooking."

Linda turns to Pavel, her expression curious and a little bit wary. "Do you think that's fair? You don't think you're getting the short end of the stick?" She would never have allowed such an arrangement—one person paying for both his own living expenses _and_ his friend's, and the friend just doing the chores? It's not even close to a fair trade. And if Pavel's relationship with Roxanne ends up being long-term, and she were to move in with him, would Minnie continue to live with them and sponge off of them both? It's a red flag.

Pavel doesn't seem to understand what she means. "How so?"

"Well, if all the stress of paying the bills for two people is on you, and this Minnie person is only keeping house—I hardly think that's even."

Pavel's eyes narrow and he frowns a little bit, trying to understand. "You feel the reciprocity is unequal? That the scale of financial reciprocation Roxanne described outweighs that of the services being rendered?"

_Not exactly the way I would have said it, but all right_. "That's correct."

He looks relieved. "Mrs. Ritchi, I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression. I'm more than capable of taking care of both of us. I've made a few, ah, strategic investments, shall we say?" He fidgets a little, studies his nails, spreads his hands flat on the counter and drums his fingers. "I'm also more than capable of taking care of three, if that were to happen…" He sends a questioning look in Roxanne's direction, asking with his face, and she nods. He turns back to Linda. "Roxanne and I have already discussed things, and we've decided to share expenses somewhat."

"Actually, Mom, we've _been_ sharing them," Roxanne adds quietly, before Linda can respond. "For about a month, now. It's been working out really well."

Linda raises her eyebrows. "So you've already moved in together? And there's space for the three of you? Roxanne and Minnie get along okay?"

"Minnie is family," Pavel explains, and Roxanne nods her agreement.

"He's great, he really is. He and Pavel grew up together – they've sort of been taking care of each other all their lives. And there's definitely enough space," she says, and Pavel's lips twitch.

Linda looks at him. "I thought you did research for a living? How are you able to pay for three people?"

"Unscrupulous use of grant monies," he deadpans, then laughs and shakes his head. "Kidding, kidding." Then, when he sees that Linda isn't going to stop asking, he sighs and deflates a little. "Mrs. Ritchi, I was…I got mixed up in some bad business when I was younger. I made a lot of poor choices that could have gone horribly wrong, and as hard as I've fought to fix all that…I still count myself _extremely_ lucky that my life has turned out as well as it has. Roxanne knows what I'm talking about—I would never try to hide something like that from her—but I'd really rather leave it at that for now."

Linda nods and tells herself not to jump to the worst possible conclusions. She was young once, herself. "May I have an example, please, before I let this matter drop?"

Pavel opens his mouth, then hesitates and glances at Roxanne, and they hold eye contact for a long couple of seconds. A quick glance at her daughter speaks volumes: Roxanne is equally unsure how to respond.

He licks his lips and returns his attention to the older woman, offering up a tiny smile. Linda is expecting something along the lines of drug dealing, and when the young man with the soft-looking hair and eager eyes says, very quietly, "Arms trafficking in El Salvador," she can't quite keep from gaping at him for a minute. His smile this time is more of a wince; he must know how this sounds. "Arms dealing in Russia. Two instances of federal tax fraud—I've paid the fines for those, by the way. Extortion. Strategic destruction of property. One instance of human trafficking which involved the illegal creation of immigration papers."

"Forgery, you mean."

"I do _not_ mean forgery," Pavel says, looking at her with a clearer expression now. "Forgery implies that the documents themselves are fraudulent in some way or were made to _appear_ genuine without actually being so. These were illegally _obtained_, but they are the real deal. I am nothing if not thorough."

Linda nods, determined to give nothing away. "Anything else?"

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Really?" she asks. "No mob connections?" She's only half-joking.

The smile he gives her is sharp and doesn't quite reach his eyes. "None in the USA."

That one makes Roxanne pause and blink, and he amends, "Well, Lancaster and York don't really count."

"I know York would love to hear you say that," she mumbles.

Megamind remembers something, snaps his fingers, speaks without thinking. "Oh, I forgot to tell you! Lank says to say hello. I think he feels bad about that episode with Sundown."

"Which one?" Roxanne asks sharply, her tone suddenly and unexpectedly acidic. "The one where he shot and killed my attackers or the one where he dropped my ex off a roof and sent me his heart in a box?"

The ringing silence that follows her terse query is really amazingly awkward. Or, no, awkward isn't the word for it. _Stunned_, that's it.

"Um," Megamind says in a small voice. _What the heck? Where did _that_ come from?_ "Both? I think?"

"I'll tell you which it is," she snaps, "it's only the second. I'd put money on it. I bet Lancaster doesn't even _know_ about the first time. Something is going on, and you _know_ it."

She's tried to bring this up before but he'd thought they were done with it. Apparently not. He swallows and glances at Linda, who has gone back to chopping vegetables but looks entirely too nonchalant for what she's hearing. Why, he thinks, _why_ is Roxanne bringing this up _now?_ "W-well, what do you expect me to do? _Ask?_ I've _tried_ to look into it, you know I have." He scowls a little, lets a little irritation bleed into his tone. "You _know_ I have, the same as you know he blocks me every time. Roxanne, I just don't know what you want me to _do_."

She drops a mushroom and catches it before it hits the sink. Drew stands frozen by the refrigerator, his calculating brown gaze darting from Megamind to Roxanne to Linda and back again. "You're _part_ of it, whatever it is! I don't like him dancing around you like that. Figure something out. Thought you were a genius."

"I _am_," Megamind says, "which is why I'm not foolish enough to go poking my nose in _Sundown's business_. Especially not when he refuses to make death threats! Whatever's going on is bound to come to a head eventually, and we'll meet it when it does." He folds his arms over his chest, spins back and forth on the bar stool. "Right now I'm working on guaranteeing _your_ safety; we both know _I_ can handle myself."

Roxanne turns and blinks at that and immediately backs down, leaving Drew to ask the obvious question: "Sorry—_refuses_ to make death threats?"

Roxanne and Megamind both open their mouths, but incredibly, it's Linda who answers. "Sundown is like some other people I could name but won't. He never promises anything he can't deliver." She shoves the mushrooms off the cutting board and into the slowly-filling bowl. "If he's refusing to threaten Pavel but won't let him in on the plot, then odds are Pavel is somehow integral to his plans. The trouble with _that_ is, he's not the sort of creature that ordinarily plans for the long term and he _certainly_ isn't the sort to trust whatever plan he might develop to someone else's shoulders." Her knife is flashing faster and faster as she speaks, the chopping growing increasingly harried though her tone never changes. "So what you're saying is that you _know_ something's going on but you're not going to do anything about it, because forcing Sundown's hand is what you do when you don't want anyone to find or be able to identify your body. Which is entirely reasonable, you know; even _I_ won't dispute that.

"All the same, it makes me very," _chop_, "nervous," _slice_, "that you feature in some strange, misguided, probably deadly plan that could get you _and_ _Roxanne_ both _killed_. Or _worse_."

Roxanne struggles past her shock at her mother's apparent intimate knowledge of how Sundown operates and manages, "Worse?" only to have Pavel quietly assure her that, "There are worse things."

"Spoken like a guy who knows," Linda mutters. "Oh, well, _that's_ certainly reassuring. Dear me, I seem to have run out of mushrooms."

Drew swoops past, brushing his hand over hers as he swings by on his way to the sink. "Aaaaand I'm taking this, thanks Ma."

Linda blinks at her empty hand, then the chef's knife Drew is diligently rinsing off. "Hey!"

He glances back over his shoulder, goofy grin firmly in place as he singsongs, "Love youuu!"

She glares at him, then chuckles and sighs, goes to the stove and flicks on a burner. "Okay, okay. My son the charmer. Annie, dear, how are things in Metro City? Your new cameraman working out okay?"

"Yeah, he's great. Do you need me to grab you something to sit on, or…"

"Oh, heavens no, my knees are fine. The surgery was months ago."

Drew winks, then turns around to attend to the dishes while Roxanne wipes down the counters and Linda pulls out a wok, both of them chatting amiably, as though the previous conversation had never happened.

His back is to his mother and sister, but Megamind has a very clear view of the way the older man's face falls from sunny to exhausted in about two seconds flat. Uncertain, Megamind blinks at him, and a moment later Drew catches his eye.

His shoulders fall slightly and he shakes his head and shutters his eyes. Not much. Just enough. Megamind, who is used to reading minute changes in posture and facial expression—_not_ being able to interpret body language will get you killed in prison—knows immediately what he's saying. It isn't words, nothing as coherent as that: just a combination of _can't/tired/resignation_.

The tiny shrug and twisting mouth are very clear, though, as is the split-second eye contact just before he swings, laughing, to pluck the dish towel off the handle on the oven door. _Wit's end. Please_.

Watching him, sparkling now for everyone and not just his family, Megamind starts to piece together what he's seen so far of the dynamic in this house. There are undercurrents that he knows nothing about, but he suspects that would be true in any household—he hasn't seen any altercations yet, but the conversation has been too light for any of those thus far.

The rest of the facts speak for themselves: Roxanne hasn't been home to visit her family in years. The Ritchis bounced back and forth between Michigan and California for nearly all of her childhood, sending down roots in both places but unable to truly develop and flourish in either. That lake in Nebraska was one of the few places she knew her family would all be together; her father was rarely home while she was growing up. She and her brother are very close, but she's eternally at odds with her equally stubborn mother and with nobody else around to help, Drew probably gets caught in the middle every time. He is the peacekeeper in this house, and for all his strange beard and mismatched face, of course he would radiate charisma and devil-may-care attitude. He _has_ to, just to be able to get along with his mother and sister without totally losing his cool.

_He's right_, Megamind thinks. _I'm sitting on a time bomb_.

_And he isn't sure that Linda won't stab me if she sees the opportunity_, he realizes. That's what that bit with the knife was. She'd been getting into her stride and Drew had cut her off so smoothly that she hadn't even noticed.

He swallows. He had wanted to find out how Linda knows so much about Sundown but perhaps it's safer not to ask. Not just yet.

This is not going to be a good week. He's been on edge about this for what feels like months and he'd been hoping to feel better once he finally got here, but all he feels is a horrible knot of tension gathering in his shoulders and upper back. It isn't the family dynamic that bothers him; prison was full of strange, sometimes dangerous dynamics. This is a week in a house with a woman who _actively hates him_. She doesn't know who he is yet, but as soon as she finds out—

"You okay, Pavel?"

He looks around, startled, and realizes that he'd totally zoned out for a minute. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Sorry. I was just thinking."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They get through dinner without any more strange conversations like that. Conversation is easy. Light. Dancing from topic to topic, skirting dangerous subjects like supervillains and heroes, although at one point Megamind suspects Linda is trying to bring the conversation around to the Scott family. He isn't sure, so he just steers them well clear by telling several raunchy jokes, one of which sends Drew into a hiccupping fit and leaves Roxanne and Linda blinking at one another. He'd managed to deflect questions about family, about religions, about political leanings and where he'd grown up and where he'd gone to school.

He's had easier conversations with ex-KGB officers.

But dinner ends with no explosions, and Megamind volunteers to rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher since he hadn't helped cook at all. Linda appears behind him as he's checking over the washer to make sure everything is in the most efficient arrangement possible, making him jump, but she just raises an impressed eyebrow and nods at him before heading out to her usual armchair in the living room. Drew is sprawled all over the loveseat, and Megamind shrugs and sits cross-legged on the end of the sofa, his laptop open in front of him, text-chatting frantically with Minion.

All things considered, it's a rather pleasant evening. The dishwasher is humming away in the background. Roxanne has her book. Drew is buried in some sort of peer-reviewed thing. Linda is engrossed in a crossword puzzle. Everyone is in their pajamas, because apparently the thing to do in this house is change into lounge clothes as soon as dinner is over and the washing-up complete. Megamind's pajamas, for this trip, consist of a fairly plain tee-shirt and sweat pants. He isn't too happy about his neck being exposed, but the disguise generator works best if the overlay more or less matches what's under it, and he isn't taking any chances.

Roxanne sits sideways on the couch, her legs over the arm, leaning back against her boyfriend. She has her chin hooked over his arm, which he has slipped around her neck, resting high on her chest so he can reach the keyboard with both hands. It's a surprisingly comfortable way to sit, for all he's so bony. After a while, he shifts and resettles, and she slings an arm over his knee and squirms a bit, then subsides.

When he starts to slide his legs out from under him, she twists her hand and catches him by the toes. He starts, then smiles and glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "…That's my foot."

"Yes." Suddenly she makes a noise and sits up. He watches her. "Let me see your cut," she tells him. "I just want to make sure it's not infected or anything."

He holds out his arm, glad that he had remembered to incorporate both the small wound _and_ the messy bandage into Pavel's overlay. "You know, I _can_ take care of myself," he protests.

She just clucks her tongue and inspects the scarlet line on his arm which, true to his word, has already closed and begun to heal. After a moment, she holds his arm in the air. "Keep this straight for me," she says. "Thanks." She takes his hand and pushes back on the tips of his fingers, flexing his hand up and down and watching how the movement pulls on the cut, then brings his hand level and turns it, rotating his wrist.

He watches her in silence for a moment, turning his hand in hers, double-checking that he's okay even though it's been three days and he really is fine. _Where have you been all my life?_ he wonders, and doesn't realize he's spoken aloud until she glances up and smiles.

She opens her mouth and pauses, looking like she's about to laugh, then shakes her head and returns her attention to cutting the gauze and tying it down.

"What?" he asks, amused.

She looks up again, her eyes dancing, and lets his hand rest in her lap. "You aren't the only one who recites poetry," she says sheepishly. "_I _was a child and _he_ was a child, in this kingdom by the sea, and we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee." She stops, chuckling a little, feeling foolish, but he finishes for her:

"With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me." He darts his head forward and kisses her briefly and she freezes, surprised, then smiles, turns, and relaxes back against him as he drops his arm back down around her shoulders.

"My girlfriend quotes Poe," he says. "I win so hard."

"Oh my frickin' _gawd_," Drew mutters, "you two are _disgusting_." But his thumbs are moving over his phone, and he sends a quick text that makes Linda's phone buzz on the arm of her chair.

She looks at it—_Are you hearing this?_—and then at Drew, who is smirking at her, triumphant. She glances at the man on the sofa, who has gone back to his laptop and is now typing rapidly with only one hand. Roxanne is stretched out sideways again, leaning back against his side as though he were a bony pillow, reading contentedly.

She scowls at Drew, puts the phone down, and returns pointedly to her puzzle.

It doesn't matter; he knows she's seeing it. Roxanne is never like this, she doesn't cuddle like this. Not in front of other people, anyway; not _relaxed_. She doesn't recite poetry off the cuff as though it were an actual conversation. She and Pavel wear little matching unconscious smiles as she turns a page and his hand flickers across his keyboard.

She clears her throat and does something with her elbow, and he glances down at her without moving his head. "Careful," she tells him, and Drew can't for the life of him figure out why. Or what the hum that he hadn't noticed until it cut off just now had been. Or why Pavel suddenly looks guilty.

Roxanne looks up at him, cocking her head at a crazy angle to meet his eye, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "You are a _freak_," she says under her breath, and Pavel's teeth blaze white in a laughing smile.

"So, uh, am I allowed to ask, where'd you get that cut?"

Pavel glances at it. "Oh—it was a knife."

Drew frowns. "Kind of a strange place to cut yourself with a knife."

"I didn't cut myself. I got cut."

There's a few seconds of silence while Drew thinks about this. "Okay, so—you were stabbed? You fell on a knife?"

Pavel snorts and holds up his arm, pointing at the red mark. "This is not a puncture wound. No. We—what?" He glances down at Roxanne, confused. "It's a good story. We got attacked at a gas station in Nebraska," he tells Drew.

His eyes nearly fall out of his head. "What? Are you _serious?_ Some guy attacked you with a knife?"

"Only one of them had a weapon that I saw," he shrugs. "The other ones went down pretty easy, considering."

"How many were there?" Linda asks quietly.

Pavel glances over at her. "Three. Not all at once, though."

"And where did you learn how to take down three assailants while protecting someone else?"

He shrugs. "I told you, I made some bad decisions. You think I've never done time?"

Her expression doesn't change. "It was the 'protecting someone else' bit I was interested in."

His voice gets just a little bit chilly. "I like to learn—I think that's obvious. I meet people. They teach me things."

"What _kinds_ of 'things'?"

"_All_ kinds of things," he says in a level tone, then blinks, snorts, laughs, and totally ruins the serious mood. "Oh, _oh_ no, that sounded—that came out wrong. Scratch that. Just…okay, there was this one guy in for a couple years, we called him Mr. Meanscary because oh _sure_ he knew all kinds of mixed martial arts but they got him for _insurance fraud_, and you know, that's about the least mean and scary thing out there? Anyway…"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The house has two upstairs bedrooms and one downstairs master bedroom because Linda doesn't do well with stairs. Which is good, in Megamind's opinion, because he's fairly certain that if he ever ran into Roxanne's mother in the middle of the night, he would die right then and there.

"So?" Roxanne says as they crawl under the covers. "What do you think?"

He bites his lip. "I think—okay, honestly?"

She nods.

"I'm scared out of my wits and I don't even know what I'm afraid of." He laughs shortly. "I don't know what I'm doing. There's nothing _tangible_—I guess I'm still afraid your family will hate me, but that's _stupid_," he complains, "I know your brother, at least, is good people. Your mom will definitely _not_ be okay with me, but I'm _used_ to people hating me! I don't know what's _wrong_ with me!"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Roxanne tells him. "I'd feel the same way in your position! God, if I had to meet Mitch or Guduza? I'd be shaking!"

"That's understandable," he mutters. "They're kind of large and convicted."

She smiles and touches his hand. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

He sighs. "I know. I just…I don't _want_ to hide anymore, but every time I think about taking off the watch my stomach goes all funny." He wriggles a little bit, cuddling down into his pillow. "Also, I wish the door to your room would lock."

"Who's going to come in? Mom can't handle the stairs. Drew? He and I have an understanding." When Megamind cocks an eyebrow, she clarifies, "We don't go in each other's rooms. Ever. His room is a horrific wonderland of confusion."

He doesn't say anything for a while. Eventually Roxanne speaks up. "Do you think…maybe your reluctance about the watch is because of what happened last time? In the restaurant?"

"That's possible," he admits. "But I think more likely is that I know _both_ our lives are going to go to absolute hell this time, instead of just mine. Our lives and Minion's life. This is the calm before the storm, but I'm too nervous to enjoy it."

She reaches out and touches his cheek, closing her eyes. He's wearing the disguise, as they'd agreed, but if she keeps her eyes closed she can picture him blue. She can't feel his goatee, though. "You should grow a mustache," she murmurs absently.

"What? You think I'd look better with one?" For some reason, he sounds a little bit stung by this.

"No. I just think it would be hilariously funny."

"Oh," he says. "Okay. Good."

She opens her eyes and blinks at him. "Why is that good?"

He smiles a little. "I can't believe you haven't noticed yet. When have you _ever_ seen me shave?"

She blinks again, then grins all over her face. "Wait, seriously? Your hair just grows naturally like that?" Her eyes widen and she suddenly cups his jaw. "_That's_ why your whole face is so damn soft! You've never shaved!"

"Well, I do trim it. But it seems I am simply not destined to bear the distinguished goatee of my father—unless that comes later, I'm never sure about what my body does." He frowns a little. "Frankly I'm not even sure I'm fully physically mature."

"Puberty must have been hell for you," she says, trying not to smile.

"You have no idea." He throws his voice up the octave. "Uncle Mitch, what are these funny spots on my stomach?" Then he tries to imitate a grumpy bass voice. "Hell if I know, kid. Go bother Guduza, I'm trying to sleep."

Roxanne has to turn her face into her pillow to muffle her giggles. "I wish," she finally sighs, "I really wish I could show you just exactly how much I enjoy you."

He smiles. "You make this bearable, you know. I know you'll be there."

"Just you _try_ and get rid of me," she murmurs, and kisses him softly before nudging him to roll over and snuggling up to his back.

Last year, a week before Christmas, he'd been spiraling down. He usually always does, this time of the year. It's a month of family togetherness slapping him repeatedly in the face, and that's just a little bit disheartening, both for him and Minion. But this year?

This year when he leans back, someone is there. Someone whose arms tighten around him and pull him just a little bit closer, someone whose breath is warm and reassuring on his shoulders. Someone he can roll over and hold while he falls asleep. Someone to laugh and talk with in the dark. Someone who will love him even in the mornings when there are shadows under his eyes and creases on his face and a drool stain on his pillow and his eyebrows are rumpled.

And when he wakes up in the morning and lifts onto one elbow and says, "Morning, beautiful," someone swats him bonelessly in the mouth, rolls over, mumbles a vague obscenity, and goes right back to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Here's Chapter 8. Not a lot to say about it except that things happen. There are some cute scenes, some weird scenes. Linda continues to be strange. We learn more about the PHED. This chapter contains two scenes I've been working on for months and two I stuck in very recently…can you guess which is which?

As always, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! And happy holidays, everybody. I hope you're well. Big hug.

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**Chapter 8**

When Roxanne wakes up, she's alone. That's new. Megamind is almost always awake before her when they're at home—his patterns have been off while traveling—and sometimes he even gets up and does some work while she's still in bed, but he usually comes back for some quality snuggles when she starts wandering back towards the land of the living. He's said he worries about being clingy, but as she's told him a few times, "Waking up to an alien chewing on my ear is sort of sweet. Weird, but sweet."

But today she rolls over and he isn't there. So she rolls over again; still nothing. Frowning, she flops both arms out to the sides and rolls a few more times, expecting to run into him at any moment—

_Thud_. She sits up, blinking in confusion and rubbing her hip; she's just fallen out of bed. Morning sunlight is pouring in through the three tall windows, painting the room with its seashell motifs in shades of gold and peach, but her blue man is nowhere to be seen. Neither is the dark-haired human he's been impersonating.

She's a little disappointed, but not terribly surprised in retrospect. It's nine o'clock in the morning in a new place and Megamind is nothing if not curious to a fault, so there's nothing unusual about him waking up and wanting to explore. Knowing him, he's probably been up since five. She hauls herself to her feet and tries in vain to locate her bathrobe, then gives up and just gets dressed for the day.

Downstairs, everything is quietly normal from a human perspective. Megamind as Pavel sits with his back to the stairs, immersed in the chemistry journal Drew had been reading the night before while the other man sips his coffee and reads the paper. Linda is silently and mechanically filling in the daily crossword.

Roxanne tromps down the stairs, yawning hugely, and drapes herself over Megamind's shoulder, and he smiles and relaxes against her with a gentle little hum. "Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?"

"Slept great. You?"

He laughs. "Kept waking up wondering where all the sirens were. What was that thump I heard just now?"

"That was me rolling out of bed because you weren't there to stop me."

He sniffs, unconcerned, but can't hide his little smile at the thought that she'd missed waking up with him. "Oh sure, blame me, it's my fault."

"Mmm, it's _always_ your fault." She chuckles and folds her arms around him. "What you reading?"

"Boring stuff. Organic chemistry journal."

"Just for fun, or you gonna do something cool with it?" She turns her head, kisses his ear. "Make a cool gun…?" Megamind turns beet red.

"This isn't that kind of…a weapon made of this would be horrific," he protests. "I mean, it's definitely possible, but…bleah."

Roxanne smiles and peers down at the paper. "What's a macrocyclic olee—olie—"

"Oligocholate."

"So it's an oligocholate with really big…cycles. How d'you make a gun out of that?"

Megamind shrugs and thinks for a moment. "I guess I'd engineer a photoparticle that would reverse the polarity of the lipid bilayer."

"Ooh, don't tell me." She rests her chin on his shoulder and yawns again, closing her eyes for a minute. "I know this one, photoparticle means it'd be a laser-gun. And the lipid bilayer is cells, right? It would turn people's cells inside out?"

"And I would call it the _Leprosy Beam_," he purrs, pitching his voice deeper to make himself sound creepy. Roxanne laughs.

"And it would be my squishy!" she exclaims, squeezing him.

Drew clears his throat. "Okay, ew," he says. "That's just _gross_."

Roxanne chuckles. "And not entirely accurate. Wouldn't it be more of a necrosis beam?"

"It would," Megamind agrees, smiling as she gives him one last little squeeze before she leaves to go get a bowl. He turns a page and returns to his journal. "But leprosy beam sounds cooler."

"It's all presentation with you, yes, we know." Roxanne shakes her head and pours herself some cereal, ignoring the sugar bowl sitting conspicuously by his elbow. "You smell like granola."

"And you smell like toothpaste."

"Haaaaahhhh," Roxanne exhales, and Megamind wrinkles his nose.

"Drew's right. You're grouse."

"Gross, sweetie, long _O_."

Megamind cocks a haughty eyebrow in her direction but doesn't actually look up. "That's what I said. Grouse."

"A grouse is a kind of bird," she tells him seriously. He doesn't even look up.

"Order _galliformes_," he says. "Yes, I am aware."

She reaches over with her spoon and raps him gently on the knuckles. "Okay, so you're just doing it to annoy me."

He returns to his journal and turns another page. "Yes, I am," he agrees cheerfully. "Is it working?"

She straightens. "Oh, bull_shit_ you're reading it that fast!"

Now he looks up at her, peering over the tops of Pavel's pince-nez. "I read very quickly, Miss Ritchi, you know this."

"And talking to me at the same time?" She reaches out and closes the journal, puts her hand flat on the cover. "Summarize it," she challenges smugly.

He grins, opens his mouth to reply, and blows an enormous raspberry at her. The spectacles fall off his nose and Roxanne bursts out laughing. "Okay, super-genius. You know what, no more science until you brush your teeth. Morning breath and then cereal on top of it? Gag me."

His mouth falls open. "But _Roxanne!_ I was just getting to the discussion! That's the best _part!_"

"Then you'd better do a good job," she says, unruffled. "Otherwise those lovely white teeth of yours are going to fall out of your head from all the sweets you manage to pack into your skinny little body. I still can't believe you scoop sugar on _granola_."

"Ugh. _Bossy_." He scowls good-naturedly and gets up. "My high rate of mental processing and high metabolism require me to consume what would be to _you_ a disproportionately large quantity of first-level sugars."

"And don't forget to floss. Protect against gingivitis."

"You're evil," he grumbles, and Roxanne smiles in pleased surprise.

"Aww," she says, touched, "thank you."

"Wasn't a compliment."

"Yes it was."

"Yeah, okay, it was." From halfway up the stairs, he yells down, "_I can't get gingivitis!_"

"_Go find someone who cares!_" Laughing, she shakes her head and turns back to her cereal, then glances up at Drew and her mother, who are both staring at her with identical stunned expressions. She blinks and frowns at them. "What?"

Drew and Linda look at each other. Linda raises her eyebrows and grins, and Drew shrugs expansively and busies himself with the comics. "Nothin'."

She snorts. "Uh huh."

She sits and eats her cereal, thumbing absently through the abandoned chemistry journal until Megamind comes back downstairs.

"There's orange juice in the fridge," Linda says.

"Great, except I just brushed my teeth," he grumbles, and looks over at Drew, who glances up at him. "Sodium lauryl sulfate," they chorus, and nod respectfully at one another before returning to their respective activities.

Linda grins at her daughter. "Oh, I _like_ this one."

"You liked Peter, too, Ma," Roxanne points out, and Linda shrugs.

"Yeah, but he took a while."

"Oh no he did _not_, you were all over him the first time I brought him home."

"Give that back," says Megamind, reaching for his journal as he slides back into his seat with a cup of coffee, "it's not like you understand what it's saying anyway."

Drew tenses, but Roxanne just swats him with it and hands it back before picking up one of the unoccupied sections of newspaper. _Interesting_. Once upon a time, she would have snapped at him not to underestimate her intelligence; now she seems perfectly at ease with what had sounded like a casual insult.

"Hey, you know anything about a guy who calls himself Vitre?" she asks a minute or so later.

Megamind sighs. "Oh, lord. What's he done this time?"

"Apparently he's been turning decorations into glass downtown. Wreaths and topiaries, that kind of thing. You've heard of him, then." She turns the paper around so he can see the picture, and he squints at it for a second before shaking his head disparagingly.

"He's an aspiring villain in the San Francisco bay area. All show and no go if you ask me. He'll never amount to anything, mark my words," he says flatly.

"I don't know," she replies. "Says here the police still don't have any leads on who he is and he's been more active lately."

He huffs. "Yeah, but 'more active' for Vitre is like…" He struggles for a minute before abandoning that line of thought with a frustrated growl. "He's just a low-level super! His power is that he turns things into glass. That's not exactly _evil_. I mean, maybe he could open a mildly creepy novelty shop or something, but other than that…"

"What if he started turning _people_ into glass?"

He looks up again, suddenly interested. "Has he?" She gives him a Look and he slumps. "Oh. Right. Well, _if_ he did, I for one would be more inclined to take him seriously."

"Well, _I_ think it's good he has a hobby," she says after a moment's consideration. "I bet a glass topiary would look really neat! Wire some lights in it and hang it upside-down and you'd have the coolest chandelier ever."

"But that's the _problem_," he insists. "You read that and you think it sounds kind of interesting but not like a real problem. He is trying to be _evil_ and it comes off sounding like a _hobby_."

She raises an eyebrow. "Wasn't it?"

Megamind scowls at her. "Not the same thing." He exhales through his nose, looking away, and Roxanne lays a hand on his arm.

"I guess that is kind of sad for him."

"It would be unbelievably frustrating," he murmurs. "Ten bucks says he's going to snap soon."

"I'm confused," Linda says from where she's sitting at the dining room table, and they both jump. "You sound like he might have a chance if he changed something."

Pavel turns in his chair and leans on the peninsula, shrugging, giving her his full attention. "He might. He definitely has potential, and his head is in the game. His problem is that he's taking the slow rise to power, and that just doesn't fit his capabilities."

"The slow rise?"

"You know, lots of little acts of villainy spread out over a long period of time and a large geographical area. He's showing that he's not going anywhere and he's marking his territory, and that's good," he says, gesturing with his hands. Then he frowns and shakes his head. "The problem with it is that it really only works for people who have scary powers, or who use their powers for really scary things."

"Like turning innocent bystanders into glass?" she asks. "Seems to me that'd alarm a lot of people."

"That's a good example, yes. Lots of little acts of _really unsettling_ villainy, that's what works. But this guy?" He shakes his head and makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. "He comes off looking like a cheeky prankster, not a threat. The worst part is that he _knows_ it. I read his forum posts, he's becoming increasingly erratic."

"Right," Linda nods, "you said you think he's going to snap soon. Do something really big, really wild and crazy, right?"

"That's right."

"Well, the way I see it, there's really only two ways that can go," she says slowly, and he tilts his head at her. "Either people freak out and bow down, or he marks himself as such a major threat that we take him out before he can go any further."

Pavel's smile is sharp. "Exactly. Either he becomes a fully-fledged supervillain—and then only if he keeps it up—or he goes down and becomes a has-been."

"That'd be a difficult balance to achieve," Linda muses. "Frightening enough to make them fear you, not so frightening that they mark you enough of a threat to warrant immediate take-down."

"_Mom!_" Pavel and Linda start and look at Roxanne. "You're quoting."

Linda's mouth quirks into a wry smile. "It's relevant to the conversation."

"It is," Pavel agrees, nodding earnestly. "I assume you're referring to Megamind?"

"He went from petty misbehavior as a teenager to an open attack on Washington, D.C., yes. But I think that's where the whole 'threat' thing breaks down," she says, frowning now. "How is _that_ not enough to mark him a clear and present danger to the American public?" Her eyes narrow. "I've never understood that. You know him, right? Care to explain?"

Roxanne puts down her newspaper. "Careful, Mother."

"There may have been extenuating circumstances," Pavel says easily. "He may have been provoked."

"He _was_ provoked, you mean."

Pavel shrugs. "Okay, yes. He was provoked. The PHED stole Minion."

Up goes an eyebrow. "Did they really? I didn't know that."

"It was covered up. That was part of the deal—there was actually a lot of negotiating that went on between him and the PHED." He shrugs again, unsurprised, unruffled. "They reached an understanding. Besides, it was self-defense. If Minion dies, so does Megamind, and given the latter's childhood experiences with the PHED he had no guarantee they wouldn't kill his friend in pursuit of scientific inquiry. I'm sure you can understand why he wouldn't want that made public."

"Oh, absolutely," Linda says, just as Roxanne exclaims, "_What?_" Drew is frozen with his coffee mug halfway to his lips; he's been sitting like that for a while now.

Pavel looks over at her mildly. "You didn't know that?"

"He never said," she says through clenched teeth. There are two angry red spots high on her cheeks, and her hands are shaking as she folds the paper and stands. "Excuse me. I can't listen to this."

Pavel watches her as she leaves through the sliding door, probably heading down to the beach. Linda, however, is watching him—he looks almost nervous as the door closes, but when he turns back around it's as though nothing at all had happened. Linda smiles at him.

"I'm gonna go see what's up with Annie," Drew announces, and disappears without stopping to put on his shoes.

Pavel looks at Linda, suddenly more panicked than nervous. "I. I should go too. I think I messed up."

"Well, we can't have that," she says pleasantly. "Go fix your mess."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Roxanne and Drew are standing by the corner of the garage, heads close together, talking in low voices. Megamind can't see Roxanne's face; her back is to him, but Drew looks up as soon as he hears the door close. Megamind swallows and half speed-walks, half-runs to where they're standing.

Roxanne whirls and starts to light into him as soon as she hears him coming, but he cuts her off.

"It's not true," he says flatly. "Any of it. If it were, I'd have told you ages ago."

She falters, blinking a little. "Wh-what?" Some of the tension goes out of her expression. "Oh, thank god. I thought…"

"I'm sorry," he tells her, taking her gently by the shoulders. "I'm so, _so_ sorry but I had to get you out of the room and I couldn't think of any other way to do it."

Drew looks outraged. "So you just manipulated us out of the house? What the hell, man? Not cool."

Megamind doesn't even look at him, just rests his forehead against Roxanne's and hopes she doesn't pull away. "Please. I freaked. I'm sorry."

She holds still for a moment, then pushes on him and nods just a little bit. Just enough to let him know she's only irritated with him, not mad. "_Why?_"

"Because I know when you're ramping up for an argument," he says softly. "And I knew she wasn't going to take that well, and you'd both end up saying something you'd regret. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry," she says, finally pulling back and looking him in the eye. "It's—a good enough reason, I guess. And sweetie, I know you're frazzled as hell, but try not to _scare_ me next time, okay?"

He grins, relieved. "Okay."

"Nine," Drew says out of the clear blue sky, and apparently that's code for something because it makes Roxanne take a step back.

"Everything okay?" Linda calls from the porch.

"We're fine, Ma," Drew yells back.

"Good, I want to show Pavel the yard." She starts to make her way down the few stairs, cane in hand, leaning heavily on the railing.

Megamind takes a few quick steps in her direction. "Do you need…?"

She waves him away, smiling. "No, no. I'm fine. Old bones, that's all, but thank you." Still, he catches her elbow when she hits the grass, steadying her briefly. She pulls away almost immediately but doesn't comment on his action. All she says is, "Your hands are freezing."

"Oh—yes." He colors and uses an excuse he'd overheard once: "I have bad circulation. It's worse in the winter."

"Well, as my mother used to say: cold hands, warm heart." It's an offhand sort of comment that leaves him blinking and stammering by the steps as she approaches the cliff.

The house is right by the beach, as Roxanne had described, but at a significantly higher altitude. The edge of the yard drops off rather abruptly; although there are a few strategically-placed large stones to warn people away from the cliff, there's more than enough space between most of them for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. A set of wooden stairs lead down to the shore below.

"We had a storm a couple nights ago, so the wind is stronger than usual," Linda explains as Pavel approaches. "But it's always windy, especially by the dropoff."

He stares out at the expanse of water, which is a different color and much choppier than the lake he's used to. "This view is amazing."

Drew bounds up on one of the stones and turns his face to the wind, which blows his beard over his shoulder and tangles his long hair behind him. "It's why she and my dad bought this house," he calls over the humming wind. "That and the ground-floor master bedroom. Annie, show him your rock."

Roxanne grins and pats one of the other stones, the top of which is more or less flat. "I used to sit up here and read all the time. It was a good rock for doing homework as long as I didn't let my papers blow away." Smiling nostalgically, she leans against the stone and glances out to sea. "Sometimes there were boats I could watch when I got bored…"

"The two of you scared me to death every time," Linda mutters. "Playing on these rocks like little goats. If I told you once, I'd told you a thousand times, but would you listen?"

Megamind peers over. It really is a _long_ way down to the beach.

Suddenly Drew's voice takes a different tone. Questioning, uncertain. "Annie?"

He turns and sees Roxanne, and _oh no_. She's standing between the stones a few feet away from the cliff, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists by her sides, staring unblinkingly down. Her mouth is clamped shut, and he remembers her sleepy admission that she still dreams of falling, sometimes.

Linda frowns. "Roxanne, what's—"

"Shit," she hears Pavel mutter, and that's all the warning he gives before he vaults clean over the boulder separating him from Roxanne from a standing start, landing with his back to the cliff and easing her quickly away from the edge.

_I'm too high up_

It's the only thing she can think. _Too high, too high, man was never meant to go this high (if man were meant to fly he'd have been born with wings), I'm too_ _high_

The low voice threads its way through the panic, touching her somewhere deep. "Roxanne."

Not good. That only makes it worse. If she focuses on being okay she can pretend that she is, but now Megamind knows she's not okay, not okay _at all_, and it's like he's given her permission to freak out. She's dimly aware that she isn't actually breathing. "Roxanne, look at me."

Strong hands on her shoulders, turning her, pulling her back from the edge but it's no good, no good; she's still looking down at the city below with the wind screaming in her hair, in her ears. _Too far to fall too high up please God please let me be dead before I hit the ground I'm too high up_

Distant voices pass through her hearing without meaning anything. "What's wrong with her?" "Get _back_, Drew, let him—"

The low voice reaches in again and touches her. "Not at my feet, at my eyes. Come on. Come on, now, gorgeous girl. Look at me, Miss Ritchi." A gentle shake, a low command, fingers under her chin cupping her jaw. "At _me_."

She tears her eyes away from the fall, gasps, and collapses backwards into her mind, finds herself staring through watering eyes at a pair of calm green irises. She makes a sound; she's not sure which one.

"You know who I am?" he asks in a voice that rings and rolls like thunder below the humming wind. This is not her shy, sweet boyfriend; this is the ruler of Metro City. The 'I am' carries just a touch of the old supervillain, and it is _so_ comfortingly familiar.

Her voice sounds distant to her own ears. "Yes."

His hands on her shoulders tighten, grounding her. "And am I _ever_ going to let you fall?"

"No," she whispers, and suddenly she can breathe again. "No, you won't."

He grins, relieved. "Right," he whispers back, and he's Megamind again, _her_ Megamind, with his slow smile and gentling hands. "No I won't. Run that bike to the ground before we let you fall like that," and his arms go around her like _so_, and her eyes close against the curve of his neck just like _that_, and he exhales a long, cold breath into her hair like _this_ and it's all just so _right_. She knows of course it was Minion who saved her that day, but the voice and the face were Megamind's and he is the one she remembers.

"So I guess I'll take skydiving off our bucket list, huh?" he says after a moment, and she breaks into shaky laughter.

"I didn't know we _had_ a bucket list," she says, letting go of him with an effort. He nods, grinning at her.

"Course we do! _I_ do, anyway. Stuff I want to do with you, typical bucket list stuff. Learn a new language, climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Carve our names into Mars with a giant laser." He shrugs. "You know, the usual stuff."

Her lips twitch and she glances at her mother. "Where are you going to get a giant laser?"

He gestures vaguely. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find one somewhere. _Somebody_ in Metro-oo City is bound to have one _somewhere_."

She can't help it then, she cracks up. The ebbing adrenaline makes her feel breathless and trembly around the knees, but the blasé way he jokes about his identity is just too funny.

Her mother's voice makes her turn. "You okay?"

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah. Sorry, I guess…I'm afraid of heights?"

Drew snorts. "Since when?"

"Since she fell off the top of a building more than half a mile high," Pavel mutters, and Roxanne gives her brother a weak smile.

"Since Titan."

"Well, let's go take a look at the gardens, then," Linda says, "but didn't Megamind ever do anything that involved heights? Because I seem to remember a few afternoons you spent getting sunburned on top of various and sundry skyscrapers."

Roxanne's gaze goes hard. "Megamind," she says, her voice flat and angry, "was never going to hurt me, Mother." She glares.

"Can we not do this?" Drew asks quietly, but the look on his face isn't exactly hopeful. "Please?"

"I'm not the one who brought it up," she says tightly.

There's a long, tense silence. Linda presses her lips together. Then she squares her shoulders and sets her jaw. "It was an honest question," she states, "and frankly, I'm tired of you jumping down my throat every time I say anything about your b—whatever the hell he is. I'm cold, I'm going inside."

And with that, she turns around and walks away. Three pairs of eyes watch her retreat, stunned. Only after the door closes behind her does Roxanne slowly relax and step away from Megamind, who lets out a long breath. "Well," he says brightly, "that didn't seem so bad!"

Drew and Roxanne look at each other. "That isn't what usually happens," Drew says after a tense pause. "Hey, I'm sorry, do you mind if I talk to my sister alone for a minute?"

"Oh," he says, surprised. "Oh, no, sure. I'll just—go inside."

The trouble with going inside is that Linda is inside. Unfortunately, Megamind doesn't think of this until the door has already closed behind him, and then he's confronted with the uncomfortable sight of Roxanne's mother elbow-deep in dishwater with a black scowl on her face.

He swallows, then goes over and picks up the drying rag. "Here," he says, trying not to sound awkward and failing miserably, "I'll help. It'll go faster with two."

She hands him a plate without missing a beat. "You know, I wish I could just _talk_ to her," she says tightly. "Without her jumping down my throat. I am _trying_ to be civil, I really am…" She blinks furiously and shakes her head.

_Well, this is…just delightful_. "I guess…you aren't the only one who's irrational where he's concerned," he tries, but Linda just glares at him briefly, eyes flashing.

"I am _not_ irrational where _he_ is concerned," she snaps, "I couldn't give less of a rat's ass about _him_. I am _irrational_ where _she_ is concerned." She grabs a fistful of spoons and soaps them furiously. "I'm _worried_ about her."

Megamind blinks and opens his mouth, but Linda continues, still in that tight, too-controlled voice.

"I am worried sick to _death_ about her. I have _been_ worried about her for nearly a _decade_. I'm taking prescription drugs for high blood pressure—you know what my family doesn't have a history of? At all? Yes."

He tries not to flinch. "Well, I—I don't understand. She's told you she isn't in any danger from him, hasn't she?"

"Oh, _numerous times_." She rolls her eyes. "But has she given me any _proof?_ Ha! Honestly, she sounds brainwashed, and if you tell me he isn't capable of _that_, ho ho, I shall _laugh_."

"I seriously doubt you would," he mutters.

"Smart man. Too smart. But that's beside the point." She scrubs furiously for a few seconds, then just drops the dishrag in the water and faces him. "The point is, I'm worried sick about her and have absolutely no reason to believe anything she says. The _only_ points in his favor came from a very brief phone conversation we had a couple months ago, when she and I were pissed off royally at each other, and _he_ picked up her phone and told me to back off."

Pavel recoils. "That's in _his_ favor? How the heck is that in his _favor?_"

"Because he said we _both_ needed to calm down," she says flatly. "Not just me. He acknowledged that Annie wasn't entirely in the right, either, and I honestly believe he'd have said the same thing if she _hadn't_ been standing right there." She sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. "I just…I don't know what to think. He's up there trying to drive a wedge into this family, and I don't even understand _why_."

"That's surprising." He manages a half-joking tone despite the way his stomach is rolling with anxiety. "I mean, considering all the intelligence you seem to have gathered about the outworlders in Metro City. How _did_ you know all that about Sundown?"

She shrugs. "He's not the only Carrollian exile on Earth; my husband has worked with two others," she says tiredly. "They're a fascinating race, they really are, but restricting their movements is…difficult. And he says they're notoriously difficult to place. You have to separate them, put them in big cities or they just go totally mad and Earth only has so many big cities. One Carrollian per seven million humans, that's how it goes…"

"But why restrict them to cities? They're predators, as far as I can tell. Totally carnivorous." He frowns. "Why not land them in the wilderness somewhere?"

She chuckles. "Where, though? Territorial or not, the last thing we want is for them to find each other and start breeding. They might be endangered on their home world—"

"I wonder why," he mutters.

"I mean, _honestly_, right?" She raises her eyebrows in agreement. "But they have no natural predators here and they're very hard to kill even without that stupid sanction. They'd be terribly invasive."

He half-smiles. "Well, that's one thing you'll never have to worry about from Megamind, at least," he offers. "He's the last of his kind. So is Wa—Metro Man."

She peers at him, her brown eyes suddenly sharp. "'Is'?" she echoes. He grimaces.

"Yes. He's…well, you should probably know. There's a long version of the story and a short one, and you should really get the long one from him. Well, you should really hear _all_ of it from him," he amends. "He's in hiding and you're now one of four people who know he's alive. I know I and the other two are certainly not going to drag him in front of the press, so if they get hold of this, I'll know the reason why."

Her eyebrows rise just a little bit higher. "Was that a threat?"

"Yes." As uncomfortable as he looks, he meets her gaze without flinching.

"You're protecting him."

"You could say that. Yes."

She tilts her head. "Why? You could destroy him with this information. It sounded to me like you even know his secret identity."

He chuckles and finally turns away, picks up the discarded rag and slowly starts rinsing the dishes and piling them in the other side of the sink. Linda moves out of his way. "I've known _that_ for years. Even know his weakness, now. But I don't have any reason to destroy him, so why would I?"

"Why, indeed." And then, out of the clear blue sky, she asks, "Would you like to see baby pictures?"

His head comes up, the odd mood forgotten, his strange eyes poisonous-green and shining with laughter and excitement. "Would I!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

She leads him to a small room off to one side, one of the few on the ground floor that has a door. There's a desk with a computer, a worn leather chair facing a closet with a television in it that has Megamind blinking at the arrangement, and shelves upon shelves of books lining the walls.

"The study," Linda says by way of explanation, and shuts the door behind them. When Megamind sends her a questioning glance, she adds, "Annie would kill us both if she knew I was showing you these," and he throws his head back and laughs.

She pulls a small stack of photo albums off a shelf—mostly beige and brownish, although there is one very thin black one in the pile—and places them on a small table by the easy chair, drags the swiveling desk chair over and sits down in it.

"Oh," Megamind says awkwardly. "No, you should have the big chair, it's more comfortable…"

"Not for me, it isn't." She shakes her head. "Not for these old bones. Take a seat."

He doesn't argue, and nearly disappears in the brown leather—the chair could seat two of him side-by-side with room to spare. He really is _small_.

(The other two come back inside after a few minutes. Roxanne sees that the door to the study is closed and starts towards it, but Drew calls her back. "They're probably talking about you, Small Sister," he says, "and that's a subject where angels fear to tread. And by 'angels' I mean me, and you too if you're smart." So she settles down on the sofa with her book, instead, but keeps one ear pricked, listening for any sound that might indicate trouble.)

She hadn't expected to be able to make Pavel go doe-eyed and melty in under a minute, but he's going "Awwww" almost as soon as she cracks open the first album. For a while, Linda is able to lose herself in the old stories that accompany each picture, all the joys and failings of familyhood.

It's Megamind's first-ever glimpse into what a normal childhood is _really_ like, and he finds himself unable to speak past the lump in his throat more than once as he stares down at the books of faded photographs. There's Roxanne in pigtails holding the biggest frog he's ever seen in both hands, beaming a childish open-mouthed smile of pure glee while her brother stands behind her clutching a net. There she is on a swing-set, hanging upside down from a jungle gym, brandishing an arm in a purple cast while a bald and bearded giant of a man with patterns tattooed across his scalp writes something on it. She's riding the giant's shoulders on the next page. A friend of the family, Megamind assumes.

She's lying on her stomach on the floor, surrounded by blurry crayon drawings. She's getting a piggyback ride through a stream from Drew, whose trousers are rolled up to his knees but wet to halfway up his thigh anyway and who has a field guide to insects stuffed in his back pocket and binoculars around his neck. Her hair is down to her waist and shining brown, then cropped short in the next photo while she holds up the severed ponytail with an excited grin on her face. She's wearing braces. She's _not_ wearing braces and pointing to her mouth.

Linda can barely stop laughing long enough to tell him the story of her first birthday, when she had eaten not only the lit candle but quite a lot of cake when she'd flopped forward and planted her face and both hands in it. "It was the worst mess you've ever seen," she finally chokes out. "Well…there it is, you can probably guess…"

"Oh," he says, staring at a wailing pillar of crumb-y icing with eyes and corduroy pants, "oh, wow."

"'Oh, wow,' is right!"

A few pages later, Roxanne is running through the dusk with another little girl in cornrows who Megamind doesn't recognize. "Chasing lightning bugs," Linda explains, and he has no idea what those are but nods anyway.

And there's Drew, whose nose seems to change shape once every five years or so and who seems to have spent most of his childhood in glasses, a sweater vest, and a scowl—at least in the pictures where Roxanne isn't present.

"They were really close, weren't they?" he says when they come to the end of the second album, peering down at a small series of three photos that were all taken together. Drew glowering down at a National Geographic, Roxanne grabbing it away and stuffing the corner into her mouth, both children laughing and tugging on the magazine.

"Tore it right down the middle," she says fondly, smiling down at the page. "Yes, they still are very close. He took his role as a big brother very seriously, you know, despite the age difference. Nearly six years' gap between them, but he never tried to leave his kid sister at home until he was in his mid-teens. It didn't earn him many friends but she was always paddling along after him like a little duck, and they fought like any children—he managed to dislocate her elbow a couple of time, but oh he has scars from her sharp little nails." She adds as a sort of aside, "If you ever have children, watch out for their fingernails," and he nods his understanding. "But as far as I know they never kept any secrets from each other, not even when she was up at Metro University and he was in Nevada working towards his PhD, and they were always pulling tricks on one another…to this day, she refuses to tell me what he sent her for her eighteenth birthday." She's quiet for a few seconds, lost in memory, and then she looks up at him. "Do you have any siblings?"

His face falls a little as he shakes his head. "None that I know of. My family died when I was very young."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

He simply nods and tries to change the subject. "So what's this one?" He picks up the black album.

"Oh—_that_, don't look at that—" Linda reaches out to take it from him, but it's too late; he already has it open. She drops her hand back in her lap, grimacing. "Look, it's not—that's just something I made a few months ago. It's too morbid; I've been meaning to put it away."

Megamind stares down at his lap, frozen.

The album is full of newspaper clippings, articles and op-ed pieces and obituaries from years of newspapers, but what has caught his eye is the tiny symbol next to the name in the first obituary: an M broken by a lightning bolt. It really isn't even an obituary, just a death mention. Ricky Aaronsen. The names must be in alphabetical order. He knows what the next one will be without having to look.

Linda's voice sounds nearby, but he doesn't look up. "Give it to me."

"Why?"

"So I can put it away."

He touches the page with shaking fingers. His halting voice sounds distant to his own ears. "You're not going to show it to Roxanne?"

A pause.

"No."

He looks up at her, astonishment written all over his face. "Why? This could—really help your case against Megamind."

"You know what this is?"

"Of course I know what it is," he says, reproachfully enough that Linda blinks. "It's a collection of articles mentioning people who died as a result of his battles with Metro Man." He flips through pages until he reaches _V_ for Velasquez, Antonio, _survived by his sister and two brothers_. "How long did it take you to collect all these?"

She frowns at him. "I've been saving the newspapers for years. Only got around to organizing them a few months ago, though. Are you okay?"

"But you haven't shown this to her. You didn't show it to her at Thanksgiving." He still won't look at her. "Why not? What's stopping you?"

"Because, as you noted, this is possibly the only thing she'll listen to," she says, her eyes on his face, and even without being able to see her scrutinizing him, it takes every ounce of his self-control not to break down and confess everything right then and there. Confronted with a tangible, alphabetical list of his greatest failures. "And I'm not sure I want her to see it just yet." She holds out her hand again. "Give it to me. I'll put it away."

Megamind's lips thin and he looks down at the page again. _Velasquez, Antonio_. "I'd like to look through this, if you don't mind." His voice doesn't shake, not even a little.

Slowly, she drops her hand. "I suppose that's all right."

"Thank you." He sits without moving for a few seconds, until he realizes she isn't planning on leaving. Then he just shrugs inwardly and starts reading.

She's still watching his face. The lines around his mouth, around his eyes. The way they deepen, making him look older than he is as he leans over the page. The way he hasn't remembered to put on his glasses.

"I hate the obits," he says after a little while. "They never tell you anything important. Antonio's sister is with the MCPD, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"They call her Mace. She's one of the best cops they've got." He rubs a finger gently over the name. "He played soccer all through shool. Goalie. Got to go to college on an athletic scholarship. Had the widest smile I've ever seen; but he'd fight you to the ground if you looked at him wrong, that's how he lost those two teeth. When his father died he moved back home to take care of his mother."

Linda cocks her head. "You know what he majored in?"

"Political science." He lets out a soft laugh. "But never forgot he was a veterano for Spider. Loyal man."

She starts. "He was with Spider? But didn't you just say his sister is in the police?"

His lips tug into a reluctant smile. "You can imagine the Sunday dinners."

"Why would he go back to that, if he got out?"

Pavel hesitates, then looks at her. "Because he was a teacher," he says quietly. "Because there were so many who couldn't get out and needed to learn what he could give them. He'd always tell the wannabes to walk across—I mean, get through school and graduate—but he knew same as anyone it might not happen, so he taught them what they needed to survive, instead."

"He sounds like a good man."

His face closes again and his eyes shutter and go dark. "Yes," he agrees. "He was."

"Does it bother you?" she asks, and when he looks at her, clarifies, "That you're friends with his killer."

He winces. "I…yes. But it was an _accident_. None of these deaths were intentional. No one was meant to get hurt." He closes the black album carefully, almost reverently. "And for what it's worth, he remembers all of them," he adds softly. "He can list them all, sort them any way you like. I've seen him do it. Last name, first name, date of birth, date of death, time of death,_ location_ of death, date and time of memorial service and funeral, occupation, number of children, marriages, divorces, pets' names, hobbies, mothers' maiden names…"

"You're kidding."

"His brain is _huge_," he exclaims, visibly agitated now, "he doesn't forget _anything_."

She peers at him. "Do you think he wishes he could?"

Pavel hesitates again for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. His hands on the album are trembling.

Linda draws back in surprise. "What? Why not?"

He wets his lips. "Because the things that hurt the most to remember," he says quietly, "are usually the things most deserving of remember-ance." He presses his hands flat on the cover before she can respond and asks, "May I keep this? I think—he'd want to see it. Memory is one thing, but this…this is real."

She raises her eyebrows, but nods. "All right. Just don't show it to Roxie, okay?"

"Are you kidding?" he says, with an odd little half-smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "She needs to see this! She needs to know about this." And then, without warning, the vim goes out of him and he slumps forward over the black book, resting his forehead on the cover and closing his eyes. "This is important. These were _people_, once. These are people _he killed_, unintentionally or not, and she needs to know that."

Linda stares at him. He stays like that, hunched over, almost pushing the front of his head against the leather cover, and she actually has to fight the urge to pat him on the back, reach out in some way. She settles instead for saying, "You know, you are not at all what I expected."

He heaves a long sigh and sits up and grins at her, really grins this time as he puts matter of the album behind him. "Be honest," he says, a playful twinkle in his eye, "did you expect me to be blue?"

She laughs. "Ohhh…" Glances at him. "Not initially."

"Are you disappointed I'm not?" he asks, his grin turning sly.

She opens her mouth, then pauses. Closes her mouth and stops to think for a minute.

His whole face blows wide with shock. "You're _hesitating?_"

"There were questions I was looking forward to asking him in person," she admits. "We've never met, after all, and despite what I said before, I'd like to meet him! No, really," she insists, when he draws back, looking suspicious, "I would. All I have to go on is what Annie's told me, and she's not exactly an unbiased source of information. Honestly, the way she defends him—I can only think of three things that would make her sound like this. Like I told you before, he's brainwashed her, she's head over heels for him, or she's finally developed a maternal instinct."

Pavel snorts so hard it's almost a sneeze. "I think we can rule out the third one."

"I know. But are the other two any better?" She gives him a frank look. "She has you, which—again—leaves brainwashing."

"Stockholm Syndrome," he offers, but she rolls her eyes.

"I think we both know this goes _way_ beyond that. The problem is, there's no precedent for this relationship! Regular kidnappings during which the kidnappee is in no danger at all? Frequent kidnapping cards, redeemable every twenty punches? A dehydration gun that doesn't ever actually hurt anybody?"

"To be fair," he interjects, fidgeting, "it does have de-ath ray and de-story settings."

"Yes, but does he _use_ them? No! Ugh, gimme a _break!_" she cries, then follows that with something that would have made him swallow his gum if he'd been chewing any. "This guy's _delusional!_ What's worse is that he seems to really _believe_ he is evil so he's got to be _severely_ misguided, and on top of that he's got an ego the size of Las Vegas and a superiority complex a mile wide running down the middle! Probably built up over the years to mask the deep-seated _inferiority_ complex he acquired during his early years. And sure, that's better than being _truly_ _evil_, but Annie isn't the only one who's been kidnapped by blue aliens. I _know_ what evil looks like, and it looks an awful lot like Megamind.

"And _this_ is the guy she insists on defending!" she continues, finally looking over at Pavel to find him frozen, his mouth hanging open. "I don't understand! He isn't _safe!_"

"I," he says unevenly, then finally manages to close his mouth and swallow. "I'm not sure what to tell you. I'm not sure what you'll believe," he clarifies when her eyebrows go up.

"Well, how about you tell me the truth and I'll draw my own conclusions?" she says.

_Fair enough_, although he has to wonder what on earth the 'kidnapped by blue aliens' comment was about. "He has…friends, now. That alone has made a huge difference in the way he thinks, and combined with the several good things he's been doing…" He trails off weakly. This would be so much easier if he could just say 'the good things _I've_ been doing,' but that's not possible. "He _knows_ he isn't evil. Really, I can promise you that. It's part of why he was so angry and resentful for so long—he knew he wasn't evil, but he couldn't make anybody else believe that no matter how hard he tried, so finally he decided to just give up and go with it." He looks at her, finally meets her eyes with a resigned shrug. "If the only thing he was good at was being bad, then he was bound and determined to be the _best_ at bad. It would have been so much easier for him to cope mentally if he actually _was_ evil, so he pretended to be. Even to himself, although that didn't really work. Does that make sense?" he asks, a touch of desperation creeping into his voice. "Am I…am I making any sense?"

Linda says nothing, just motions for him to continue.

"The difference is, now he's actually starting to believe that life doesn't have to be that way. Before, it was the only way he could see, but now…there's potential for more. A lot more! Roxanne," he says, and the way Linda's gaze narrows and sharpens as soon as he says her name is interesting, "has always seen that potential. She knew it was there long before he did. Even before I did, and I've known him for a long time."

There's a long pause that follows this. Megamind is aware that he's starting to rant, but so far Linda has only looked thoughtfully interested in what he's been saying. Maybe she isn't quite as unreasonable as Roxanne thought? But she hadn't sounded reasonable on the phone, that time back in November. Has something changed between then and now? There's no way for him to be sure. All he knows is what Roxanne told him and what little he'd managed to draw from her tone of voice during their very brief exchange.

He decides to try an experiment, maybe encourage her a little. Because as much as she hates him, she isn't totally incorrect about him. So he takes a deep breath and says, "You might find this difficult to believe, but I think you have a lot of very valid points."

Unfortunately, she doesn't rise to it. She just tilts her head at him. "Oh?" she says. "Which ones?"

He hesitates for a second, then says, "Well, not the ones from _Blue is the Colour of Evil_. The bias is too thick and its 'facts' are really only about thirty-seven percent accurate. But he _is_ dangerous," he confirms for her benefit before she can protest. "He isn't going to hurt Roxanne—he'd never do that intentionally—but he has the _capacity_ to hurt her. Accidents happened frequently and she _was_ hurt a few times while he was kidnapping her, and in the old days he often acted with willful and reckless disregard for her safety. He has killed people. He doesn't see laws as applying to him. He is a criminal, by human standards. He grew up in a prison and is on first-name terms with key players in Metro City's less-than-legal circles. And for all the progress he's made over the past year, he still has emotional issues to deal with." He shrugs. "I know all of this. So does she. And—"

"And that's the part I have a problem with," Linda tells him, an air of finality clinging to her words. "_So does she_."

He wets his lips and nods. That's understandable, but he can't just let it go. "For some reason, she's been able to move past it."

"_What_ is that reason?" she demands. "That's what I want to know. What _possible_ reason could she have for moving past all of that? Even if he _isn't_ evil, what possible reason could she have for getting involved in all that? She shouldn't have to deal with all his crap!"

They've been leaning towards each other for much of this exchange, still hunched over the small pile of photo albums, but now he stops and sits back, his expression suddenly wary. "H-hold on…exactly how involved do you think she is?"

The frank stare Linda sends him makes his blood run cold. "Please. I have _eyes_," she says in a very low voice. Then a hard smile grips her features. "And so do you, and may I add that yours are _very_ green. No, don't—say anything." This when he goes white and his mouth opens to stammer something, he doesn't know what. "Not yet. I have my suspicions but I don't want them confirmed _or denied_ at this point." She pauses, breathing deeply. "There _are_ humans with eyes like yours. I don't know who you are. Maybe you really are W. Pavel Chudakov, I don't know. Let's leave it at that for now."

He stares at her. There's not a whole lot else he can do.

She stands slowly and says, "I need to go have a talk with Roxanne. Thank you, you've given me some things to think about." Then she disappears, closing the door most of the way behind her.

Only after she's gone does he begin to shake. He can't breathe; the blood is roaring in his ears and it's probably a good thing he's sitting down because his head is just _spinning_.

_She knows. Oh god. She knows_. She knows, and he just spent upwards of half an hour shut in a room with a woman who may or may not want to kill him and he hadn't even _known_.

Some small piece of his mind manages to wonder what on earth his lungs think they're trying to accomplish, sucking down air like this. He's definitely able to breathe even if he doesn't feel like he is, and the world probably isn't _actually_ about to end. Why is he hyperventilating?

But most of what's in his head right now is a variation on _oh god_, and the tiny rational part of his brain that's still functioning is starting to get worried so he pulls out his phone and stabs randomly at his short list of contacts. They're only people he would call friends, and there are only five of them.

The phone rings twice, and then a female voice answers. "H'lo?"

He shudders. "Jo—can't—"

"Wait…Megamind? Is that you?" She sounds surprised and not a little bit concerned. "Jesus, are you okay? You sound awful."

"I don't. I don't." He shakes his head wildly and pulls his knees to his chest. What is going _on?_ He feels like he's about to die. "She's gonna kill me and I can't breathe," he finally gasps, and that's all the little woman needs to jump to a pretty good conclusion. She knows most of the situation already; Roxanne told her about the trip months ago, and the rest she can take from context clues.

"Okay, honey, you're going to be okay. Nobody is going to kill anybody, you hear me? I think you might be having a panic attack, does that sound about right?"

Well, _that_ certainly makes sense enough. At least now he knows why his body is suddenly freaking out without him. Somehow it isn't much of a comfort, but he forces words out regardless. "Y-yeah. Conversation. About me. Sh-she doesn't know I'm me yet but—but she _suspects_, she knows, she doesn't want to know _for sure_ and I'm in a little room with some books and pictures and stuff and I didn't know she knew, I didn't, I didn't know—"

"Okay. Baby. I want you to get to a place where you're safe."

He shudders out a laugh. "No such th-thing."

"All right, it's okay," she says calmly, "but you need to get out of the house. Look around, is there a window in the room?"

He nods. It's right by the chair.

"Honey?"

Oh. Right, she can't see him. "Yes."

"I want you to go out the window and hide. Outside. Find a small, dark place and get yourself into it, or climb a tree, or something. Do whatever makes you feel safe, but let me know where you are when you get there, okay?"

He thinks of the porch, the space under it, and twists in his chair, rising to his knees as he works to get the window open. Pavel's shoulders are too broad to get through the window, so he has to turn off the disguise generator long enough to squeeze outside but then he's scrambling along low to the ground and pushing his way through a weak corner of the lattice into the cool darkness under the porch by the house. He can hear Jo speaking to someone in the distance, telling someone to text something in just a moment.

"Okay, honey. Where are you?"

"Under the porch," he says. His breathing has slowed, but not by much. The cool air is helping a lot, though. "Sorry." He means he's sorry for dumping this on her, sorry for showing this much weakness when he's already asked for her help a few times before, but 'sorry' is about all he's going to get out right about now.

"…Under the porch," she says to whoever is with her. "Yeah, thanks." She returns her attention to him. "Don't be sorry, baby, I'm glad you called. Okay, do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you just want me to talk to you, try to give you a focus?"

He starts to try and explain, but the words won't come. After a few seconds of struggling, he finally just hisses in exasperation.

Jo knows him well enough by now to figure out what that means. "Okay, it's okay. Also, Roxie should be showing up in a minute or two, I had a friend let her know where you are." She doesn't wait for him to respond. That's good, because he'd have tried to explain that Roxanne is inside talking to her mother right now and can't possibly make an excuse to go visit her boyfriend who is having a panic attack under the porch, and he really doesn't think he can string all those words together right now without sounding like a total lunatic.

"Hey, you know what language has weird conjugations compared to English? Mine. You know anything about the Philippines? You want to?"

He breathes. "Yes. Tell me."

So she rambles at him for a minute or so about how to conjugate verbs in the middle of the word instead of the beginning or end, and he focuses with all his strength on repeating the unfamiliar syllables until loud footsteps thump on the porch above him and he cringes back into the dark.

There's a tump-bump step and then silence for a split second when someone jumps, and then Drew lands in a crouch in the grass by the house.

"Hey," he says, bending down and looking around in the shadows. "Annie's in there talking to Mom, I think they're gonna go for a walk in a couple minutes. You okay? Stupid question, you're not okay," he answers his own question. "You wanna come out?"

He shakes his head, tells Jo, "Drew's here."

"Oh. Oh great. Well, better than nothing, I guess." She doesn't sound particularly enthused. "You want me to stay on the line, or let you go?"

"No, I can, I can go," he says, trying to sound okay and failing. "Thank you. Thanks."

"Anytime, baby. You're going to be just fine, understand? Nobody is going to kill anybody."

"Okay. Bye." He ends the call. That was terse, he knows, but he can't really feel bad about it right now.

Drew hovers by the lattice, peering into the gloom. A pair of green circles shine out at him, reflecting the light like a cat's eyes, but that's the only indication that there's anybody under there. Jeez, Megamind is wedged really far under the deck.

"So you're not coming out?" he asks, just once more, just to clarify.

"Mm-mm."

He steels himself, then starts wiggling his way through the splintered lattice. His shoulders are wide but he didn't dance his way through grad school for nothing; he's very bendy.

"…What. What are you doing?"

"If you're not coming out," he grunts, kicking until he's clear of the wooden shards, "then _I'm_ coming _in_."

Megamind watches him, trying to focus on breathing and failing spectacularly. This is bizzare; he's never experienced such a lack of control over his physical responses before. "Does. Does Roxanne know?"

"No. I deleted the text. You can tell her yourself if you want to." He runs into a shred of web and lets out a squawk, clawing at his face.

"Here," Megamind tries, and crawls forward a little ways and reaches out. He can see better in the dark, and there are only one or two clinging strands. Unfortunately, his hands are shaking rather badly and he ends up poking the other man in the eye with his thumb.

"Oh gee, thanks, now I'm covered in spiders _and_ my eye hurts," he groans, glaring at Megamind with his good eye as he rubs the other one. "Good god, it's in my beard. And wow, man, you are just a bundle of fun and good times, aren't you? No, shut up, it's fine. What _happened?_"

"I…we were looking at baby pictures, and then this album…" He's still holding onto it; how had he managed to do that? "I…we ended up talking about me. Megamind, I mean. Sh-she knows—suspects," he corrects himself. "She doesn't know for sure but she thinks I'm Megamind, I think, and…"

"And you didn't even know you were in danger?"

He nods. "And now I just feel awful," he bursts out. "I mean I _know_ I'm more than a match for her and I _know_ Roxanne's not going to leave me and I _know_ I'm probably going to get _too_ hurt here even if someone tries to…but I feel like if I make one wrong move, I'm going to die. My whole life has been a series of wrong moves." He gulps, rakes in a shuddering breath. "And that knife business didn't help…"

Drew rears back as best he can while crammed under a porch and ends up cracking his head on a cross-beam. "_Ow!_ Whoa, whoa. What knife business?"

"The…you know. Yesterday, with the chopping and the washing?"

Drew thinks for a moment, and then it's his turn to blink a few times. "Wait, you mean when I went to wash the knife?" Megamind nods frantically and resumes failing to breathe. "I took that away because she was finished with it and needed someone to de-rail her train of thought."

He stares, momentarily distracted. "Then…you don't think she's going to stab me?"

"_What?_" His eyes nearly fall out of his head. "No! She's not going to _stab_ you! Cripes, Megs, you out of your _mind?_" he demands, aghast. "_Nobody_ is going to stab you. There will be no stabbing. Or hitting with blunt objects. Or _anything_."

"But she _hates_ me!" As though that explains everything.

"That doesn't mean she's going to try to _kill_ you!" the older man cries. "Normal people don't just pull _knives_ on each other!"

He can't quite let go of the idea that plagues him. "But Roxanne did," he says, referring to a long-ago conversation with Jo.

Drew lets out a long breath and rubs at his beard. "Roxanne is used to different standards, like you and Metro Man—and me, if it comes to that. I'm about as amoral as they come. But my mom? She's always stuck to the law, and the law very clearly states: _no stabbing your potential future son-in-law_." He looks at Megamind, suddenly very worried. "Have you been scared this whole time, thinking somebody's going to try to kill you?" At the alien's mute nod, he lets his head fall back against the side of the house. "Oh my _god_. Okay, first thing we're going to do? Breathe. In for four, two, three, four—and _out_, two, three, four. Again! Two, three, four; and out, two, three, four." They do this a few times, until Drew counts six and Megamind manages to keep up.

Once that's done and he's breathing slowly on his own, Drew says, "Now listen. Just listen, and try to keep breathing. Roxanne and I are special cases—we do what we think we have to pretty much regardless of whether it's legal or not, although legal definitely helps. _Mom isn't like that_." He shakes his head. "She hates you, yes, but she isn't going to try to kill you. Trust me. I live here, in San Francisco, remember. I'm a better resource than Annie when it comes to my mom. Oh, and don't worry about Dad, either," he adds. "He's fine with aliens, criminals, you name it. Dad understands what Mom won't: my sister is a grown-up lady. An adult. And she can make her own decisions."

"But," Megamind whispers. "He. PHED."

Drew pauses. "What's a fed?"

"The Paranormal, Holistic, and Extraterrestrial Division."

"Say that five times fast." He frowns. "You mentioned it before. What is that, exactly?"

Megamind bites his lip. "I…I was six, and they…they came, they took me, they took me away from Minion and they kept me." He hugs himself, tucking his chin between his knees. "For two years. And they watched me. Sometimes they…they didn't mean to hurt me but they didn't understand my biology, and…and your uncle."

"Uncle Eric?"

"No. Rodland."

Drew shakes his head, uncomprehending. "I don't know him very well, he's always traveling. What about him?"

"He." Megamind swallows hard, inhales slowly, exhales slowly. He is calming down, although he doesn't feel very much better. "He took Minion."


	9. Chapter 9

Holy balls, this chapter took a turn for the dark. I am _really_ awful to this man. And I meant to end this one on an upbeat note, I really did! *thumbs through notes* Actually, after looking at The Plan, I can almost guarantee you the next chapter will have a better ending, provided the fic does not take off on its own again.

Many, many thanks to Karen B Jones, who had the best idea for how things should go. I had all of my possible snippets open in my taskbar (there are, like, nine of them, it's ridiculous), and I think I used pieces of most of them, but the overall structure of it is thanks to her.

*scowls and shakes out hands vigorously* Chapter 10…might be a little while. Sorryyyyy.

And, seriously, thank you to everyone who reads my silly fics. You're amazing. I've said that before and I will say it again, probably several times, but your reviews and continued support are really what keep me going. (That and an unholy fondness for the characters, of course! *evil grin*)

As always, I own nothing but Drew.

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**Chapter 9**

Drew goes white to the lips. "He did _what?_"

Megamind nods, still focusing on breathing, which is getting a bit easier. "Th-this was later, when we were older, while I was at sh…school." He swallows hard, remembering Mitch's stumbling apologies, Guduza's silent panic. He doesn't want to just throw Minion's secrets to the wind—because these are _Minion's_ secrets more than they are his—but he can't seem to stop talking. "Just before I graduated. Got back to the jail, he wasn't there, my uncles were falling over each other trying to explain. It was bad. Took me weeks to get him out."

The side of the house is cold against Drew's back, the but the chill seeping into his bones has nothing to do with the house or the weather. "_That's_ why you attacked Washington," he breathes.

He nods again. "We got lucky, they didn't retaliate. Probably should have," he adds with a bleak laugh. "I was _definitely_ a threat, your mother's right about that one. But the story about Minion's life being tied to mine helped a lot. There's only one way they could disprove that…to be honest, I'm still surprised they didn't." He's starting to sound bitter, but he can't help that. His faith in government types was shattered early on, and he was never given much of a reason to renew it. "Minion told me later that he'd been tied up in red tape the whole time, trying to get approved for a silver card, trying to show that he and I should be recognized as family members under the cultural practices of our planet—but actually proving that would have been nearly impossible, since our homeworld was completely destroyed." He sighs and drops his forehead to rest on his knees, shutting his eyes. "At least Allbright didn't hurt him," he murmurs.

Drew is silent for a long time. He really doesn't know his uncle well, but he still has a hard time believing that he'd ever do something like kidnap an alien fish and take it to a facility known for its lack of…well, not humanity, but something along those lines. "And you…you're sure they were _going_ to hurt him?"

That gets another brittle laugh. "The impression I got was that they don't _try_ to hurt any of the beings they take for study. But they don't spend a lot of time trying _not_ to hurt them, either."

That's still difficult to believe, though. After all, Megamind is obviously a sentient creature, and if that weren't enough of a reason to be careful with him, he's more intelligent than probably any human within a hundred miles. Possibly any human alive today. "Maybe that's just what it seemed like," he tries. "I mean, you were just a kid."

"Yes," Megamind agrees. "I _was_ 'just a kid.' Which means they should have—and _could_ have—spent more time and money figuring out my biology before they actually laid hands on me. Maybe if they'd done that, they'd have noticed that weird quirk of my endocrine system that metabolizes the coma-inducing part of anesthesia and leaves the _paralytic_." He spits this last part with no small amount of resentment. This is more than he's ever said on the subject. More than he's ever felt _able_ to say on the subject, and a very tiny piece of his mind is surprised and pleased with how much progress he's made.

The rest of his mind is still just plain old pissed off and scared.

Drew stares at him, hoping desperately that doesn't mean what it sounded like it meant. "I, um. I'm not sure I understand what you…"

"Starts with a V," the alien tells him, and unconsciously wraps his arms around his stomach, hugging himself. It's a defensive posture totally at odds with the sneer in his voice. "Sounds like _dissection_."

_Oh, jesus fucking holy shit_. He lets out a pained sound and wonders if he's going to be as sick as he feels. "Viv…" He can't even get it out. "Th-that's…"

"Oh, what, are you _surprised?_" Megamind drawls. "So hard to believe they'd take an _animal_ apart to see how it works? After all, it isn't _human_. Not like it has any _rights_. Not like it should be given any of the considerations due a _legal_ citizen. Not like it's going to have problems with authority," he continues bitterly, "not like it's going to think it's done something wrong and is being punished for it. Not like it's ever going to figure out that its life isn't worth anything. It's not a _real_ child. Not a _normal_ child. Why waste money on something when you're reasonably certain it doesn't even _think_ like you?" He hisses derisive laughter. "And they ask me why I made myself untouchable. And you wonder why I jump to conclusions."

"Jesus," Drew chokes, and turns sideways and grabs him around the shoulders, clutches his fingers in the fabric of Megamind's shirt. "No." What's really funny is that he doesn't even know what he _means_ by 'no,' except that what Megamind is saying is completely awful and needs to stop…but if he stops, that means what he went through doesn't bear thinking about. And it _does_ bear thinking about, it _needs_ to be thought about and discussed and made so that it never happens to anyone else ever again.

But you can't articulate that, not when someone who has become a very good friend in under twenty-four hours is sitting right next to you and _this close_ from just letting go and _screaming_, with good reason to do so. Not when you realize that your own fairly crappy adolescence is sunshine and rainbows compared to his and even though you know the comparison is unfair, you feel awful for ever, ever complaining about it. "Jesus no" is about what it comes down to, in the end.

Megamind, for his part, is starting to climb down from his briefly angry perch and realize that what he's just said is, first of all, totally horrible and not something he'd ever planned on voicing to _anybody_ _ever_. Secondly, it's having a far more adverse effect on the other man than he would have expected if he ever _had_ planned on talking about it. Thirdly, and most interestingly, he isn't freaking out at all about shooting his mouth off and, in fact, feels a lot better now he's gotten all that off his chest.

He blinks a few times and manages to be vaguely surprised at himself. He also notes with some amusement that this is probably about how Roxanne would be reacting if he told her all this, and that this just seems like a very touchy-huggy family.

He clears his throat awkwardly and pats Drew on the elbow. "You, um…you realize I didn't actually mean to say any of that, and I'm actually a lot better-adjusted than I probably sounded a minute ago? You know that, right?"

Drew doesn't move and doesn't relax his grip. What he does is say, "One of the guys from the lab is hosting a holiday party tomorrow night. You need to come."

Megamind reels. "Wait, what? Where did _that_ come from?"

"I'm serious. And go as _you_. You need to be there." He swallows hard and forces himself to let go and sit back, staring down at his hands. "I know you're not a social guy, but…trust me. You _need_ to be there."

Megamind's eyes narrow. "What _exactly_ makes you think I want to spend several hours hanging out with a crowd of people? _You're_ all right, but…a houseful? No thank you."

Drew squeezes his eyes closed. He's really bad at _talking_ about stuff like this. It's _so_ much easier to show people their worth _physically_, no words and long explanations getting in the way, no chance of misinterpretation provided both parties come to an agreement ahead of time. But that's not going to work with his sister's boyfriend, obviously, so he'll have to talk, instead.

"Okay, look, I get the feeling you don't really understand what you mean to…to people like me. I mean. You're like, an _icon_ or something for us." This should sound incredibly awkward, but he's found that if he refuses to act as though things are awkward, they usually won't be. Besides, this needs to be said, and Megamind is possibly one of the very few people who won't find it awkward at all. "One of the girls has a tattoo of _your logo_ on her side, I've seen it." He lets out a painful-sounding bark of laughter. "Heck, I was the one who told her she should go ahead and get it!"

It's dark under the porch, and his vision has never been particularly good even in full light, but he can hear the confusion in Megamind's voice when he says, "What? _Why?_"

"Because…" He trails off, trying to remember what he'd told one of the interns when he'd been down and hurting and looking for a role model he'd be able to identify with. He'd been proud of that conversation.

"Because we see ourselves in you," is what he finally settles on—it's not what he'd said to the intern, but he thinks it might be close. "You're _real_. People _don't_ love you on sight. You're too smart to be understood half the time, you isolate yourself, you laugh and make fun of everyone you see and all the stupid things they say. You see through all that crap, you _call_ them on it, and they _hate_ you for it, and you're okay with that." He swallows. It's not fair, it really isn't. Megamind was never supposed to hear all this, was never supposed to actually find all this out. But he keeps talking, hoping that at some point, he'll say something that makes some actual sense and doesn't sound like plain hopeless fanboying. "You make some of us feel like _we'll_ be okay, even if we can't figure out how to really get along with people. You give some of us the courage to ditch the 'friends' who make them the butt of their jokes." And then he finds the right words, after he's said so many dumb ones—these are the _right_ words, he's sure of it. He takes a deep breath. "When…when we're outside, looking in? You make us feel like we're not alone out there. You're the best and worst of us, and we see ourselves in you. That's why."

Megamind sighs. "Sorry to have let you down," he mutters. "Hanging up the supervillain cape. Getting a life that kind of resembles something normal."

"Are you kidding?" Drew exclaims, looking up in surprise. "I mean, yeah, a couple of people were kind of hacked off about that. But most of us are _thrilled!_ You made it through!" He beams at him, making him blink. "It took a long time, but you made it! And maybe, if you can do it…maybe, so can we." There's a pause during which he wonders if he has just blown any chance of Megamind going to the Christmas party; eventually he grimaces and finishes with, "_Please_ come to this. I'll be right there with you the whole time, if you want, and I'm sure Roxanne will come too if you ask her. We'll leave early if you want to. Just…please come. It would mean so much to _everyone_ there."

Megamind is silent for a long, long time. Finally he says, "If I'm asked to sign anybody's tattoo, I'm leaving."

Drew squeaks and punches the air in triumph. Or tries to. He ends up skinning the backs of his fingers on the underside of the porch. "Yes! _Ow!_" He shoves his knuckles in his mouth, still grinning like there's no tomorrow. "Yaaaay," he mumbles. "Whoop whoop."

Megamind dissolves into helpless wheezy laughter just as the porch door slides open and Roxanne calls out, "Drew? Pavel? You guys out here?"

"Shhh," Drew hisses, choking back giggles, and Megamind presses the back of his hand to his mouth and swats him repeatedly on the shoulder.

Beat.

"…Are you guys seriously under the deck?"

"I w-was having a panic attack," Megamind says in a very wobbly voice. Roxanne blinks down at her feet, unsure of whether or not she should be worried about this.

"And…are you crying now, or laughing?"

"The second one?" he squeaks out. "Even though I sort of feel like doing both?"

"I need a band-aid," Drew announces, and that is apparently Megamind's cue to lose it; he lets out a noise like _HAahg_ and follows that with several _mwee hee hees_ that are totally unlike anything resembling an evil laugh.

"That's it, I'm coming down there," Roxanne says flatly, and tromps down the stairs and squeezes herself through the lattice. "Holy crap, you guys are really far back there."

"I cleared out the cobwebs for you," says her brother proudly, "because I am a Good Person."

"You're a horrible human being, what are you talking about," she mutters, but she's smiling as she crawls up next to Megamind and into his arms. He hugs her close and shoves his nose in her hair, which isn't really out of the ordinary. Except after that, he lets go and squeezes himself into a ball and leans into her lap, giving her clear access to the back of his head, neck, and shoulders—a signal both of trust and that he is not feeling at all well. She bundles him in as close as she can.

Drew very politely pretends not to notice this. "True, but I am a _fantastic_ tree."

"Uh-huh," she says, rolling her eyes even as she puts an arm around Megamind's back and starts rubbing his head with her other hand. It's not something she's done before and it feels a little strange, but after what he said about the forehead touching, she's starting to wonder if a little more head-contact might be good for him. "Somebody want to fill me in?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"…And that's right about when you came down," Drew finally finishes. Megamind has remained more or less silent throughout his summary, save one time when he kicked the older man in the leg when he was starting to get too specific about the PHED. He'd rather not have to think about that story more than once in a very long while, and Roxanne would only freak out. Incredibly, she doesn't say a word about his sudden movement or Drew's subsequent abrupt change of subject—probably she is remembering the last time she pushed Megamind for information.

She's quiet for a long minute. Finally she says, "You saw my baby pictures."

He hums and nods. "You were _adorable_. I didn't know you had braces."

She chuckles. "Well. Wow. You know, for what it's worth…Minion told me they never hurt him."

He breathes. "Minion told you already. Oh, thank god. I remembered after I told you none of it was true that I mentioned it in the car a couple of days ago, and…"

"And you were still panicking," she says gently, curling over him a little, "and all you could think was that somehow you had to calm me down _and_ protect your best friend's privacy, because you weren't sure if he would want me to know about that." A lot of that would ordinarily irritate her, but she's seriously resolved to give Megamind the benefit of the doubt as often as possible this week. He's usually very good about thinking twice before he speaks but he tends to make a lot of social mistakes when he has to juggle too many thoughts even on his good days. He's more stressed out now than she has ever seen him, which isn't helping at all. Still, she knows he can't stand it when she tries to analyze his motives, so she adds, "Does that sound about right?"

"Yes." He leans into her, and if she didn't know better she'd swear she can _smell_ how relieved he is that he doesn't have to explain or worry about her being upset with him.

_Good_. She nods, then continues, "Anyway, what _he_ said was, the guy who took him actually helped him a lot. Recommended which forms to fill out, what status to file for. From the way he sounded, he didn't feel like he was in any danger." She strokes her fingers against his temple in what she hopes is a soothing motion. "If that _was_ my uncle, I don't think you have anything to worry about. I've met Rod a few times, he's…always really happy. Very calm. Very reasonable man."

"Really?" In her arms, Megamind relaxes very slightly. Not much. But she's surprised that he does at all; she knows he trusts her word on things, but even about _this?_ That says something.

"And even if he _is_ a threat," she says, "he wouldn't dare try anything with me and Drew here." The way Megamind is curled so tightly, she can pat his thigh with the hand that's around his back, and she decides to add something a little more lighthearted. "He'd be torn to pieces in the street by fifteen howling scientists if he did. I don't know if my brother told you, but his lab is very…possessive of you. It's sort of sweet, in a creepy way."

He lets out a low laugh and relaxes further. "I've heard."

He's clearly starting to feel a little better, and that helps Roxanne's mood immensely, but at the back of her mind is still the awful knowledge that if push really does come to shove and the worst happens, she won't actually be able to protect him. She isn't strong or super-fast or super-intelligent. She's just human, and not even a particularly special human, at that. _One of these days_, she thinks, _I'm going to have to see about taking some kind of martial arts class_. She really can't stand knowing how helpless she really is.

For now, though, she knows people who know other people, and that will have to be enough. "Now, I want you to listen to me. I might not be a super or an alien, but I am stubborn as a mule and just as protective of you as you are of me. And if _anyone_, family or otherwise, _ever_ tries to hurt you or Minion, I will personally ensure that they wish they had never been born." She bends her head and kisses the curve of his skull. "Legal or not. I'm all or nothing, Megamind. You know that, right?"

"I know," he sighs, and finally goes boneless in her arms. Whether it's because he's more relaxed or he's simply too tired to maintain his tension any longer, she isn't sure. "We'll figure something out."

"_Unus pro omnibus_," she says.

"_Omnes pro uno_," Drew finishes.

"You guys're gangin' up on meeee," he murmurs, then cocks a lazy grin up at Roxanne. "An' I thought you didn't speak Latin."

She smiles down at him. "I don't. I just read too much classic literature during my formative years. One for all, all for one. Alexander Dumas."

He hums again and snuggles. "But there's only two of us."

"Hey," Drew says, sounding mildly offended. "There are definitely three of us. I counted."

"And there's Minion up in Metro, and he makes three, too," Roxanne points out. "And four, if Wayne is around. Like it or not, sweetheart, you've got at least two other people on your side at all times, now. We'll fight for you—we love you. And we know you'd fight just as hard for us."

When he doesn't respond, she realizes that his eyes are closed. _Did he fall asleep?_ Getting Megamind to sleep in the middle of the day isn't easy; he must be exhausted. She shifts a little, pushing gently on his head and back and making him stir and mutter. "Okay, sweetheart, I know you're tired and you know I'm happy to let you sleep on me, but I'm not going to sit under a porch while you take a nap. That's where I draw the line. So roust."

He groans loudly but rouses himself and rolls away, leading a floppy, dusty exodus from under the porch, his disguise once again firmly in place.

"Are there spiders?" he asks nervously as he straightens. Moving and squeezing out through the latticework woke him up a bit. "I bet there are spiders. Get them off."

"Your butt is clean," Drew huffs as he scoots backwards, dragging his long legs out after him and coming to his feet in one long disjointed flailing motion. "I know because I checked."

"Will you stop," Roxanne says from where she's still waiting behind the lattice, "perving on other people's significant others."

"No, because I know _you_ don't actually mind," he replies, dusting himself off. "And unless 'Pavel' here tells me to stop, I plan on continuing to flirt shamelessly with everyone to whom I am not related. Your fake hair is clean, by the way, you can stop fluffing it."

"Thank you." Megamind subsides and bends to offer to help Roxanne up, but she's busy looking at the ground and doesn't notice his outstretched hand until she already has her feet under her.

"Oh, sorry—thanks, hon." She grabs his fingers and he pulls her to standing.

"You _don't_ mind, do you?" Drew asks. Usually he wouldn't, but in this case he thinks it's probably best if he just makes sure.

Pavel's pale face is mildly quizzical, but the disguise generator has still managed to pick up the deep shadows under Megamind's eyes. "Why would I mind something like that? It's flattering." Then he glances at Roxanne and notices that she's staring at him with a little frown troubling her features. "What?"

"…I think we should stop the charade here," she says softly. Megamind immediately goes rigid, even takes a step back, his eyes scanning her face in bewilderment. "I know we said we'd let it go a little longer, but…it's clearly not doing anything for your mental state. In fact, I think it might be making it worse."

He tucks his elbows against his sides, blinking. "But," he says unevenly, shaky and uncertain all over again. "It's going to be horrible."

"I know." She shakes her head and bites her lip. She really doesn't like the idea any more than he does, but she can't stand seeing him like this, she really can't. "But it's going to be horrible no matter when it happens, and if you're right…if she already knows…"

"It'll only be worse the longer you put it off," Drew points out in a low voice.

He starts to reply, but stops when Roxanne reaches and takes his hand—the one with the ring on it. "Megamind, be honest," she says, "if I weren't affected by this at all, would you have already told her?"

He tilts his head at her, pleading mutely, _Why would you say that?_ But he knows she's got him with that one.

She nods. "_I want_ to end this now."

He shuffles his cold feet in the grass and makes a muttering noise, but nods and unbuckles the watch. It squawks at him indignantly, but he silences it and stows it in his pocket. Roxanne smiles and touches his face just as the shy, lost expression falls away and his brows lower and lips thin with determination. He looks back at the house.

"Then let's do this."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As it turns out, they have to wait a few minutes longer; Linda is sitting on the front porch talking on the phone when they come in through the back sliding door. Roxanne isn't sure why, but Megamind puts his shoes and socks on as soon as Drew announces Linda's location. She also isn't sure why he wants to change his clothes, but she has to admit that the long-sleeved V-neck and jeans are much more his style than the white button-down and khakis he had synced with Pavel's overlay. Megamind wears khakis about as well as he wears hats, which is to say badly.

Unnoticed by Roxanne, Drew slips him a small, rectangular box, which he slips into his pocket with a grateful nod.

They'd planned to be in the sitting area together when Linda comes back in, but as ill luck would have it, she enters right while Roxanne is putting a box of cereal back in the kitchen cupboard. So all the warning they have is the door opening and Linda saying, "Well, that was your father, he's…oh."

It's a small 'oh,' but then it doesn't have to be particularly large to carry such a vast sense of cold disappointment. Roxanne freezes, then whirls and sees her mother standing just inside the door, turned towards the family room, her lips a thin line and her head tilted back, eyes closed. She's just…breathing.

Then she opens her eyes and looks back into the family room; Roxanne can't see where Megamind is, but she can guess what her mother is looking at. Linda's eyebrows move, her mouth twists, and she gives a few little, jerky nods.

Then she spins and slams the door closed behind her with a bang and a strangled scream, making everyone present jump.

Then she whips around again, her expression closed and steely. "You."

Roxanne has made it into the family room by this point, and is standing behind and to the right of the alien by the sofa. "Me," he agrees, sounding astonishingly calm given just how upset he had been only a few minutes ago. "I think you said you had things you wanted to ask me."

Although she's pale and there are tears in her narrowed eyes, which Roxanne hadn't expected, she doesn't even hesitate. Clearly, the idea of 'now that it's happening I don't know what to do' does not apply to Linda Ritchi. "Why can't you leave this family _alone?_" she demands. "Why are you _doing_ this to us? We've suffered through _ten years_ of you and now you're _dating her?_"

"Yes, I am," he replies. "It's nothing against you—"

"You're damn straight it's nothing _against us!_" she snarls, cutting him off. "You have _no_ respect, no restraint, _no idea_ how _inappropriate_ this is! Or maybe you do. So how did you do it?" she asks, hands on her hips. "Hypnosis? Or are you really playing the long game, making her believe?"

A muscle pulses in his jaw. "This really has nothing to do with you," he says, fighting to keep his tone even. "And she hasn't been brainwashed. As I said earlier."

"You expect me to believe she _loves_ _you?_" she hisses.

"Yes, I do!" Roxanne snaps, just as Megamind says, "No, I don't." They glance at each other.

Megamind speaks first. "What we mean to say is, we love each other very much. But we don't expect you to believe that."

She presses her lips together. She's trying very hard to keep her cool, stay calm, stay rational and clear-headed but it's _just_ not happening—not with him here in front of her, finally, after years of crying and sleepless nights, after doctors and worrying, after living in fear for her child who can only be delusional, after watching her son refuse to worry about his sister, after a full _decade_ of hatred and entirely justifiable anger—not now.

She stalks forward and puts herself between him and Roxanne, teeth clenched as she glares at her daughter, "I'll talk to you in just a minute." Then she rounds on Megamind, whose face is closed and wary, full of suspicion. "_Get. Away. From her_." She drives him back, nearly screaming. "You leave us _alone!_ Not anymore, you don't—don't come anywhere near us! How _dare_ you do this to this family?" She throws her arms in the air; he flinches back. "Haven't you put us through enough? You don't _deserve her!_ What gives you the right? You're evil! A villain! That's all you are! It's all you'll ever be, all you'll ever be _good_ for! You've crowed it from the rooftops time and again," she cries. "You're not human! Not even from _Earth!_ And you denied any humanity you might have had when you turned your back on us and declared yourself a villain! _You're not even a real_ _person!_ What gives you the right? _How dare you?_"

Megamind's foot hits the wall. He glances to the side, notes that he has nowhere to run. He's been maintaining his calm impressively well throughout her onslaught by telling himself that she's just getting it all off her chest, but when she screams that he isn't a person—that's when he stops cringing away and actually starts to lose his temper. She doesn't get to say that. Not with the most disgusting part of his stay with the PHED so close to the front of his memories.

Roxanne has just taken three quick steps forward, her mouth is open to launch into his defense, but suddenly Megamind's whole expression twists. His eyebrows draw together and down and his fists snap to his side as he steps forward, making Linda stumble back in surprise. "_Get out of my face_," he hisses. Step. Step. "You think I don't _know_ all that? You think I haven't told her _repeatedly_ that she deserves better, she should find someone else? You think I don't think about everything you just said _every single day?_"

After her initial stumble, she's holding her ground. "Obviously."

He throws his arms to the side in a 'come at me' kind of gesture, his lip curling. "Well _hey_, guess what? I tried to _make_ her leave me! Months ago! Back in August! You know what happened? She slapped me and told me not to be so stupid and shallow, not to make decisions for her, and that she was giving me _one more chance_. You think I don't know _exactly how lucky I am?_

"But what am I supposed to do, huh?" he demands, cocking his head from side to side. "She's not leaving me, and I love her. I've loved her for _years_. Never acted on it! Never said anything! But—"

"I should _hope not!_" Linda exclaims. "You know how creepy that is?"

"Yes, which is why I never _did_ anything about it." His eyes narrow, sparkling with anger and too much bottled rage, and he speaks again without thinking. "That, and I learned a very long time ago just how disgusting _I_ am simply because of I'm not human. Hey, what else you think a seven-year-old with more smarts than _it_ knows what to do with is _gonna_ think, _it_ gets drugged 'til _it_ can't move, gets stuck on a table and _cut open and looked at?_ Just 'cause _it_ isn't human, _it_ ain't even legal? You think I didn't grow up thinking I ain't—" He pauses, blinks, corrects himself without acknowledging Roxanne's soft cry behind him, "_I'm not_ a 'real person,' because real people are protected from things like that? What else do you _think_ I was going to take away from something like that?"

He's lying and she knows it, but now she's so mad she can barely see straight—how can he even _try_ to pull the pity card with something so farfetched? "You think that bullshit _excuses_—"

"No!" he explodes. "No, it doesn't excuse _anything!_ But it's one of the many things I learned as a kid that contributed to me 'turning my back on humanity,' so don't you _dare_ tell me I'm not a person. I'm not human—but I'm _someone_, I finally know that much. And _you_ know it, _too_, so don't _tell_ me I'm not a person, don't tell me that." He shakes his head. "I'll take a lot from you, but I won't stand and take that."

"Person or not," she says, "you two aren't even the same species. You're an _alien_."

"So is Wayne," he replies in a similar tone, folding his arms over his chest like a bar. "You were fine with the idea that Roxanne was dating _him_. And you were fine with ku Aea, who Drew brought home some years back."

"_Yeah_, that's—" Drew leaps into the conversation, or tries to. His mother cuts him off.

"_Metro Man_ didn't put my daughter's _life_ in danger on a bi-weekly basis for over a decade, and Ganeesh might not have been human but he—"

"Ku."

"—wasn't an alien, either!" she finishes, just as heatedly as he had a moment ago. "The tentaculae are an older species than we are, even. That was an _honor_." She clamps her arms down over her chest. "Before you ask, no, being the last living member of a dead race doesn't give _you_ any bonus—"

"_Mother!_" Roxanne and Drew chorus, equally appalled.

Again, neither is given much chance to say anything beyond that. The snarl that rips from Megamind this time isn't even _close_ to human; it's low and ugly and comes from somewhere deep in his chest. "I would _never_ ask that." He closes the distance between them. "Say what you like about me, but you _leave my people out of it_. Don't you _dare_ bring them into this."

"Or what?" she counters, barely concealing her smirk even as she leans away from him. "You'll hurt me? Keep my daughter from me? Ruin my credit score, take my insurance?"

"I would never," he hisses again.

"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows. "Then what _will_ you do?"

Absolutely nothing. There's no threat he can make that she'll believe, not one that he'd ever dare follow up on. Still, it feels wrong to just stand there and let her drag not only him but the civilization he can barely remember through the mud. Inspiration strikes. "I'll tell your brother."

Incredibly, that seems to make her falter a bit. "N—what do you know about my family?"

"I think the question you should be asking yourself is, what does _your_ family know about _mine?_"

_He's lying again. Bluffing. He must be_. Still, she hesitates to call that particular bluff, so she rallies instead. "What about everything else, then?" she demands, and suddenly his whole face lights up with furious glee.

"Oh, you mean everything_ I _told_ you_ half an hour ago?" he says brightly. "_That_ everything? The stuff I already know about and have acknowledged right in front of your face?"

"Wait, what everything?" Roxanne wants to know.

He starts ticking them off on his fingers. "I could hurt you if I wanted. There were accidents when I was kidnapping you and you got hurt a few times. I disregarded your safety. I'm a criminal and I don't intend to stop being one any time soon. Oh, and _this_," he adds, snatching the black photo album up from where he'd laid it on the sofa and thrusting it in her direction. He'd planned to show it to her later, quietly, alone. But now he's angry, and his head is up and his back is straight; he's whirling above himself, all spinning wounded pride and indignant wrath. It doesn't quite make him brave, but it keeps him from thinking too hard until she already has the book open in her hands.

He stands like a stone while she opens it and thumbs through, her confused expression quickly going hard. But when she looks up, her glare isn't aimed at Megamind. "You made this," she says flatly to her mother. "You made this to turn me against him."

Linda turns her cold gaze on Megamind. "I told you not to show her that."

"Villain," he purrs, his green eyes sharp and bright with burning rage that mounts above his growing fear, flashing above his white smile even though his blood is slowly running cold. "Careful what you wish for."

"Well, the joke's on you, Mom," Roxanne announces, dropping the album on the couch and squaring her shoulders. "I already know about all these."

_That_ makes Megamind turn towards her, showing his confusion all over his face. "What?"

She gives him a scathing look. "Please, I'm a reporter. I _wrote_ two of these op-ed pieces when Jo was out sick."

He stares at her, for a moment forgetting Linda, forgetting Drew, forgetting everything but the woman in front of him as his face breaks apart a little. "Can you say h-how many—"

"Thirty-two," she says, her expression gentling somewhat, and he inhales sharply. It's not quite a gasp, but it carries the same sort of shivery-startled feeling. "And I know how much you regret all of them."

His throat works. "And you…you haven't…"

"I worked through it by myself months ago," she admits. "Didn't see any reason to worry you about it, so I thought I wouldn't unless you did."

The clock on the mantelpiece ticks loud in the silence, Drew stands frozen by the door. Finally Megamind sighs and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. "Well, she's right about one thing," he says, quietly sad and smiling, "I _don't_ deserve you."

"Don't be stupid," she tells him, stepping close. "Everyone deserves to be happy."

"_Not him_," Linda snaps. But she turns from Megamind to regard her daughter. "Why? Why _this?_ If you know everything he's done, if you _really_ do, why this?"

"Because he's my best friend," Roxanne says. "And I love him."

"How," her mother replies, "can you _possibly_ love _that?_"

"Hey," Drew says from his place by the door, and it really is impressive, the way he manages to pack both offense and warning into such a short syllable. His whole stance is alive with it, Megamind realizes, glancing over. The tall man stands poised to spring, watchful and wary, and he's reminded somehow of the big cat he'd seen in the forest. Could that only have been a few days ago? It feels like half an age.

Linda, incredibly, manages to ignore her son. "Even forgetting that he spent ten years kidnapping you and putting you in very real danger—_look at him_."

"I _am_ looking," Roxanne tells her. "He looks fine."

"He looks _damn_ fine," Drew says, and _still_ his mother won't look over at him. He frowns.

"Then why the disguise?" Linda demands. "Lying to me for months about who he is? Did you think it would be _funny_, tricking me? Super-genius can't figure out how to introduce himself?"

"We were _trying_ to make this easier for you!" Roxanne cries, finally starting to lose her cool. Really, it's surprising she made it this far. "We couldn't figure out how to tell you—so we thought it would be best if you got to know him _first!_"

"Oh, yes, that's a wonderful idea," Linda says, drawling sarcasm. "Hit me over the head with the knowledge that the man I tentatively approved of is also a creature I loathe with every piece of my soul. _That's_ going to endear him to me, yes. Good plan. You know, I'm starting to see why you were always such a failure," she adds, glancing at Megamind, who flushes. "Well, the joke is on _you_ this time, Roxanne Calpurnia. I've suspected you two were involved since late October—why do you think I was so upset, that time when you called?"

"Wait. You _knew?_" It's Drew's turn to sound outraged. "Are you _kidding?_"

"Your father told me his suspicions some months ago, yes. But—"

"I don't _believe_ this!" Drew exclaims, and—finally—Linda rounds on him. There's a flicker of triumph in his lopsided face before it's replaced with bubbling anger.

"Your middle name is Calpurnia?" Megamind asks Roxanne quietly, sounding mildly amused, and she mutters back, "Really not the time, sweetie."

"How dare you?" Linda gasps, for what must be the fifth time in as many minutes. "After everything he's done to this family, you're throwing in with _him?_ What is _wrong_ with you?"

Drew draws himself up, which makes him look fairly impressive when he pulls his shoulders back. "What's wrong with me is I have been worried for _months_, thinking I'm gonna give something away or bring world war three crashing into this house by doing something stupid, and _you_ _already knew!_"

She scowls at him. "Well, now you know what I've been going through all these years. Congratulations. And don't you have to go practice, or something? It's Wednesday."

"The band can manage a session without me," he says hotly, eyes snapping fire. "If you think I'm leaving him—_them_—here alone with you, you're out of your mind."

Her face goes, if possible, even paler than before. "Well, I guess I know which side you're on, then."

"Yeah," he says, with the ghost of a hard smile. "_My_ side. The reasonable one. Let the record show that I don't expect to find Annie on my side, either."

"What about me?" Megamind asks.

"You're the issue in question," Drew says smoothly, before Linda can get distracted. "You don't get to have a side. _Now!_" he snaps, and the other three jump. "Just so we're clear: we have my sister, who's biased in your favor; we have my mother, who's biased against you; and we have me, who am sick to death of the whole stupid debate."

Roxanne starts in, "It is _not_ a stupid—"

"Oh _yes it is!_" he snarls, rounding on her and glaring down from his considerable height. "It is so incredibly _fucking_ stupid. Mom hates your boyfriend because she thinks if he hasn't _brainwashed_ you then he's playing some kind of long game, making you trust him while planning on breaking your heart, which is of course _bullshit_, but _you_ sure as hell aren't giving her much of a reason to think otherwise. But actually getting to _know_ him is out of the question because she refuses to even _try!_" He's growing steadily more and more agitated as his voice rises in volume, using not only his hands to gesture but his whole upper body. He's almost hopping with frustration, and Megamind is mildly surprised to discover that he can't look away. "You know, I was really looking _forward_ to this. I _really_ was. I was looking forward to finally, _finally_ having someone around who can speak my language, and now _you_," he turns and fixes his mother with the full force of his glare, which the ex-villain privately thinks could use some work but is still fairly impressive considering he hasn't practiced, "had to go and _ruin it_.

"So you know what I've decided?" he continues angrily. "I've decided that is _it_. I have had _enough_. I've decided that I'm declaring a moratorium on the subject of Is Megamind Secretly A Douchebag. Nobody gets to talk about that until after Christmas. _So!_ Mom," he barks, pointing at her, "you can judge him all you want but you keep your mouth _shut_." He aims another finger at his sister. "Roxanne, no pointed or snide comments about his character _or_ Mom's worries." Both fingers go to the blue alien who is still standing by the sofa. "Megamind, you just keep being awesome." Finally, he points to his own chest, which, while broad, resembles a wet paper bag over chicken wire because his shirt is damp from his expedition under the porch. "And _I_ will call Dad and tell him what's going on because I am the only person who even _resembles_ an objective third party, at this point."

"You're not objective," Roxanne protests weakly, but he's gotten into his stride now and refuses to back down. Drew in a towering rage is a sight to see—he seems to have mastered the same kind of pent-up whirling charismatic energy that Bernard has, the sense that at any moment he will lash out and sweep your legs from under you and leave you winded on your back.

"Yes, as a matter of fact! I am!" he cries, showing his teeth in an angry smile. "You know me, sister _dear_: I've _never_ cared about good or bad or illegal or legal or whatever. I really only _care_ about _intelligence_, which he has in spades _and_ which has no bearing whatsoever on the current issue." He's way up on his high horse right now and he isn't about to come down anytime soon. He has a very low tolerance for intolerance. "So, you see," he continues with a sweeping gesture and little bow, "I _am_ the only objective one, here, and the rest of you _humans_ will either fuck off and be stupid somewhere that isn't near me or learn to keep some civil tongues in your heads, or _I_ will _make_ you. Inhuman company excluded, of course." He wrenches his phone out of his pocket and sweeps around, away, and up the stairs. Half of the shadowy-tense feeling in the room seems to follow him out, the oppressive atmosphere lightening as he disappears. "Dad? Hey. You can probably guess why I'm calling…"

Megamind's calculating gaze follows him until he's gone, then flicks to Roxanne, then narrows in suspicion. He opens his mouth and swallows air, licks the roof of his mouth, and frowns.

"Do you smell ozone?" he says quietly to Roxanne, but she just blinks at him quizzically and shakes her head.

"I do," Linda says in a low voice. She's fallen into her armchair and is rubbing her knees. She won't look at them. "Smells like sticking a fork in a microwave?"

Megamind nods, uncertain about how he should respond. She doesn't sound angry anymore, just tired. And sad. And old.

"Thought so." She sighs.

"Do you know what caused it?" he risks asking, and she scowls bleakly in his direction.

"No. But _you're_ a genius," she adds scathingly, "figure it out."

Roxanne bites her lip. "We really were just trying to make it easier for you, Mom," she says, her voice quiet. "I'm not going to leave him, no matter what you say. We wanted to make this as easy as possible, and it's…it's what worked for me."

She shakes her head. "I understand the truth of it. Not the why. I don't understand why." Megamind starts to reply, but she cuts him off. "No," she says, "no. Not now. You want to make things easier? Get out."

He stammers for a moment. "I-I…but I can't…"

"You can't just kick him out," Roxanne protests.

"_Both_ of you," Linda clarifies. "Both of you, just…get out. And I think you'll find that this is _my_ house, and I _could_ kick him out if I wanted to—but I won't," she says heavily. "I don't want to play that card unless I absolutely have to, I just…can't deal with you right now; I need you both to go somewhere else for a while."

"Mom—"

"_Now_, Roxanne."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

So Roxanne finds her shoes and coat, and Megamind pulls on an extra pair of gloves which means he's tired of being cold for a while and is surprising. Usually when he wants to be warm it's because he's in a good mood, but that can't possibly be the case today.

"What do you think?" he asks in an undertone as she opens the door. "Disguise outside?"

She blinks at him, then sighs. "It's up to you, really. Let's take the car, we'll go invisible and…I don't know, go somewhere."

He nods and doesn't bother with the watch. And he doesn't protest when Roxanne automatically heads for the driver's seat; driving aimlessly can help her calm down.

She could also probably use some distraction from everything that just happened, and he knows just the topic he wants to talk about. "How did you know to come outside?" he asks, once they're unseen and underway. "I mean, Jo had someone text you, but Drew said he deleted it. And when he said you were going for a walk…I don't know, I didn't expect you so soon."

She shrugs. "It was Minion, actually. I thought…I hadn't called him to check in, and I just thought…I thought I should call him. So I did."

"Right then?" he asks. "It couldn't have waited?"

Roxanne frowns a little. "No," she says slowly. "I don't think it could have. And it was really funny, too, total coincidence; the phone rang and rang because he was calling me at the same time." She turns up the heat a little, plays with the radio for a few seconds without looking before turning it off again. "He asked if I knew where you were because he'd tried to call you a few times and you weren't picking up. I said I thought you were at home." But she sounds troubled, and Megamind can't quite let it go. Not if what he's starting to suspect is true.

"So you just turned around and came home?"

"No," she says. "No, we turned around a minute or so after he hung up. I thought…" After a moment, she shakes her head and bites her lip. "Never mind. It's crazy."

"Maybe not," he says. "What did you think?"

"I was thinking about you. And I couldn't stop thinking, what if Mom already knows?" She scowls, frustrated. "Like, what if we're walking and having this conversation and she knows everything already? It wouldn't get out of my head. It was weird."

"You know how, at home, you can hear the generators? They throw you out of whack the same way they do Minion if something goes wrong?"

She turns her head and blinks at him a couple times. Where did _that_ come from? "Yeah…"

"This is the first time I've been away from Minion for such a long time, over such a long distance, since we were kids." Megamind slouches down in his seat, his brow furrowed in thought. "When he called me in Colorado, it was right after I saw the lion."

"You saw a _what?_" she exclaims, momentarily forgetting pretty much everything else. "Are you serious?"

"Completely," he assures her. "It was _so_ bizarre, I was just walking and I looked around and there it was. It looked at me, turned around, and went off the way it came. And then my phone rang and scared me half out of my skin. It was Minion that time, too. And I'll bet you tried to call him around then—just after it started getting dark out?"

Roxanne is silent, frowning.

"Most humans have some minor psionic power," he says. "ESP is usually seen in children, but tends to fade with age. Sometimes it sticks around, though—"

"I woke up because we hadn't contacted him," she says abruptly. "And I thought I should check in." Then she looks over at him. "But…you said your link with him was biochemical. Over this distance…"

He scowls. "_I'm_ not psychic. All I'm capable of is some really inconvenient empathy if I don't take my caffeine."

"But you're saying I _am_."

"No." He looks at her. "I'm saying I think _Minion_ might be, and I wouldn't be surprised if we find that your proximity to him is bringing out your own, _human_ psionic abilities. That's not the same as being psychic."

Roxanne pulls over. This is just a little too much for her to handle and keep driving. "S-still," she manages. "I can't believe this. I'm…I'm _not_ a super!"

"You see it a lot in gifted children," he says gently. "These kinds of low-level superpowers. _Very_ low-level, barely classifiable as real _powers_, but they are distinct abilities. And the more gifted the child, often the stronger their mental abilities will be. Most of them never recognize and develop their extra talents; I'm not surprised you never did."

She gapes at him. "I'm not…_I_ don't have…"

"I think you might." He sighs and folds his arms over his chest. "You've _never_ been unprepared for a kidnapping. Some of your clothes could have been very compromising if you wore them on a kidnapping day, but you never did…no matter how hard I tried to time things so that you would," he adds, blushing.

More than that, she remembers days she'd gotten dressed and then changed on an impulse, wondering why she was doing it and being very glad she had every time. There's a reason Roxanne has always listened to her instincts—never relied on them, but listened to them every time. No more than most people, really; they'd only started being consistently reliable after she'd started getting kidnapped.

Which doesn't _prove_ Megamind's point, but certainly lends it some credibility.

"You've gotta be kidding me," she whispers. Then she frowns again. "But why would it link me to _Minion?_ I didn't think of calling _you_, remember," she reminds him. "I wanted to call _him_. Both times. And like you said, I've started reacting to the reactors the same way he does."

His face falls a little, but he shakes his head. "I don't know. It could be because he's always been the one doing the kidnappings."

"I bet the week I spent with him while you were unconscious didn't help much," she mutters. But she doesn't sound happy with that explanation. She doesn't sound happy at all. "Let's get out of the car and walk. I need to stretch my legs."

He doesn't bother with his disguise, just gets out and waits for her to turn off the car and join him on the sidewalk, where he takes the box Drew had given him out of his pocket and knocks something into his hand, rolling it thoughtfully between his fingers before deciding to hold off for a few minutes.

"I could be wrong about all this," he starts to say, offering Roxanne an out as she shuts the door behind her and tests the handle to make sure it's locked. She glances up at him and shakes her head.

"No, you're right: it goes beyond coincidence. I just…" Still shaking her head, she bites her lip as she looks away.

He blinks at her unhappily. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I knew you'd be surprised, but…I hoped it wouldn't make you _sad_. This gift, it's really not very strong at all. I don't think it will affect your life in a bad way. Or really even in a good way. Probably not very much at all." He pauses nervously. "Are you okay?"

She manages a laugh. "Oh, sweetie. It isn't that. It's just that…I love Minion, you know I do, but still, I wish this whatever-it-is was linked with _you_. Not him." She turns to look at him as they set off down the sidewalk together, and he's surprised to find that her eyes are swimming with tears. "If you're in trouble—if you're freaking out so bad you're hiding _under a porch_—I want to know. I don't want to just know to contact Minion."

He fidgets. "Ah, yes—about the whole freaking out thing? As long as we're here, talking about things. You do know your mother has _some_ legitimate points…right?"

She heaves a heavy sigh. "Yes, Megamind, I know she has some good points. Not that I ever wanted to admit it."

"Y-you really _might_ want to, though," he says awkwardly. "Admit it, I mean. To her. That's why she thinks you're brainwashed, you've never told her you know I'm dangerous."

She thinks about that for a little while, her hands in the pockets of her coat. At her side, a match flares and she glances over. Then she blinks. "Where did you get that?"

He exhales guiltily, smoke trailing from his nostrils as he looks at the glowing cigarette. "Your brother. I haven't smoked in ages and I don't plan on picking it up again, but…today? Just today."

She stares at him for a long few seconds, then shrugs. "As long as you brush your teeth before kissing me again."

He nods gratefully and returns the little paper roll to the corner of his mouth.

"So…" she says after a minute of thoughtful silence. "You used to smoke?"

"Occasionally," he shrugs. "Never really formed a habit." He doesn't bother to explain the negative conditioning that will keep him from forming one now. One bad revelation per day. "But it was an environment thing, you know, growing up." That much is true.

"Growing up." She worries her lip. "You weren't…_serious_ earlier, were you? About…that thing you told my mom?"

He takes a long drag. It doesn't really help. "You think I'd lie about that?"

"No, but…" She trails off, then swallows hard. "You weren't _conscious_, though."

He's silent.

They're concealed from most of the neighborhood's view by a hedge of thick pine trees. Roxanne stops walking, staring at his thin face, which is closed and dark, his brows lowered. "M-Megamind. You weren't, were you? Th-they didn't…"

"They did," he says, very quietly, and she lets out a strangled sob and reaches for him. "They didn't _mean_ to. They thought I was asleep."

She takes his face in her hands, shaking her head in vehement denial of this, as if somehow by sheer force of rejection she could make it untrue. "No," she says between clenched teeth. "N-no."

He manages a small, reassuring grin. "I have a very high tolerance for pain," he tells her. "I was okay."

"But…it hurt, of course it did, it has to have hurt," she babbles, staring at him, her blue eyes flicking back and forth between his green ones as she touches his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "Or it wouldn't do this to you. Oh my God. Oh my God."

He rests his hands on her waist and starts to smile. It's been so long since he'd even dared _think_ of those two years, let alone speak of everything that happened. He wants to tell her no, he was fine, he's always been fine, don't worry. It was what he had told _them_, wasn't it? Not to keep them from doing it again, but to show them they hadn't made him weak. Better to let them do it twice than to see him brought low. At the time, he'd thought that was their goal. To punish him—though for what, he'd never been able to quite figure out.

But that's what he starts to say. _Nope! Barely felt a thing!_

But then, slowly, his smile falls away. And, even more slowly, he nods. "Yes," he softly admits, almost twenty years after the fact. "Yes. It hurt." And then he summons all his strength, takes a deep breath, and says the part that he has never told anybody, ever, not once. "And it—it hurt worse the second time."

"_Megamind_," she gasps out, "oh, my _God_," and pulls him against her. He drops the cigarette so he can hug her.

It's when she begins to rock him desperately from side to side, standing there on the sidewalk, that the stone in his throat finally rises up and chokes him. After a few seconds, he clenches his fingers in her coat, hides his face in her neck, and silently allows himself to break down.


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter. Good _fricking_ lord. I had a ton of ideas of where to go with this one, but then stuff happened and half my ideas were crappy (half of them usually are) and I forgot the other half, and it all…just…bluh. I started over. No, seriously. I got to 20 pages and a little more than 8,000 words and it all just sucked so I started over because to hell with everything, I'm not going to give you guys a chapter I know is crap. The chapter might still be crappy, but I want to at least think it's good because if _I_ think it's crap, you guys _definitely_ will.

So here we are. Chapter 10, take 2! There's bits and pieces from the first draft, but most of it is new. On a related not, this chapter was betad by karenbjones! So a great big thank you to her. Like holy shit thank you wow oh my god.

Also, sorry if you reviewed and I never responded…life has been _really_ hectic lately, what with it being spring semester and I'm almost graduating and job search and schoolwork and studying for the CPA exam and my master's thesis (thesis of doooom)…bad habit of mine, when I stress out I pull back from all contact with pretty much everybody. Which isn't healthy or smart, because that only stresses me out more, so I'm working on that. Rest assured, I read all your reviews and loved them, and I love you, and I fully intend to respond at some point. Hopefully soon.

I don't own Legos or Rubik's Cubes or really anything except Drew.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Drew comes back downstairs as soon as he gets off the phone with his father and is pleased to see that his mother is still in her armchair, quiet and thinking. Roxanne and Megamind are nowhere to be seen, and he assumes they've gone for a walk or a drive to clear their heads. That's probably for the best.

If there's one thing he loathes, it's having to mediate between two unreasonable people. He's good at it, but he doesn't like it. With any luck, Megamind will talk Roxanne into being a bit less stubborn—_that means it's up to me to take care of Mom_. He goes to the kitchen and pours two glasses of cranberry juice, ice in his, none in Linda's. Then he takes them out to the family room, sets one down on the coffee table where Linda can reach it and folds himself into the loveseat.

"Mom," he says quietly. "We need to talk."

Without preamble, she asks, "You think he's good for her? You really do?"

"I really do," he replies, watching her. He'd come downstairs knowing she'd be calmer now, and ordinarily he'd be diplomatic and non-confrontational. But as he said before, he's had just about enough of all this—the time for sitting back and playing neutral is over; this isn't about calming her down, it's about persuasion. "You saw how they were last night. When's the last time you saw Roxanne sit like that with anyone? And this morning!" he exclaims. "When have you _ever_ seen her so physically _comfortable_ with someone? She never was that way with Peter, that's for sure. He was all over _her_, never the other way around, even when things were good between them."

The ice in his glass clinks and settles as he takes a drink. Still, Linda doesn't say anything, so he continues with a shrug, "Besides, you know our Annie's a handful. She needs someone who can keep up with her. And she needs someone who's as stubborn as she is, who _knows_ her, who _respects_ her enough to let her do her own thing but who'll know when and how to pull her back _if_ she needs him to. If anyone can do all that and not go _completely_ _insane_," he says, his tone growing sharper towards the end, "it's Megamind."

Linda flinches a little at the name, but Drew is relentless. "_Megamind_," he repeats firmly. He thinks of something, snaps his fingers. "And you know she'll never be bored with him. You know _that_."

"I do," Linda admits. She sounds reluctant, but the whole family knows how much Roxanne hates monotony. And she is painfully aware that, while Megamind is many things, _boring_ is not one of them. She makes a disgruntled muttering noise, says in a low voice, "He broke her arm," but then shakes her head when Drew huffs indignantly and opens his mouth to argue. "No, I know, I know. She fell and the robot-thing caught her. I know.

"I just don't _understand_ it, I suppose," she sighs, leaning back into her chair with a groan. _Old bones_. "I don't get it at all. After everything he's put her through? Everything he's done to her? He told me himself: he _is_ dangerous. His lifestyle, even now, even if he is everything she claims…that's not the kind of life she needs!"

Drew is very calm. Too serious, his voice too level. "How do you know what kind of life she needs?"

She scowls at him, but concedes. "Fine, fair enough. But I _don't_ believe he's changed," she adds before he can reply, her irritated expression finally giving way to the deep worry she's been doing her best to hide. "I can't believe this isn't all just an act."

"Keep watching," he suggests blandly. "Maybe you'll see something new."

"They're not even the same _species_." She sighs and rubs her eyes, glances at the clock. "It makes no sense. It isn't—it isn't _right_. I held my tongue with Ganeesh because only a fool insults one of the tentaculae directly. If he wanted to honor you as his—"

"_Pronouns_, Mom, I keep _telling_ you—"

She stumbles. "If…if _ku_ wanted to honor you as…whatever, _fine_." She shakes her head. "My point is, it wasn't like it was ever going to be a long-term thing. But really, interspecial relationships…" She trails off, pressing her lips together. She hardly wants to insult her son, even if he is far more open-minded than she's comfortable with, but what she really wants to say is _interspecial relationships are wrong_. She settles instead for, "I don't understand them."

Drew is quiet for a moment. Then he says, softly, "I know some things you don't about how their relationship got started. I want you to hear it from her, but for now, just trust me—it hasn't been all smooth sailing."

"That's not what it sounds like to me."

"Of course she's not going to tell _you_ that!" he exclaims. "She's trying to defend him at every available opportunity; she's not going to deliberately give you an _in!_ But they've fought." He chews his lip. "After Bernard…you should have heard her."

Linda looks up, honestly surprised. "She called you?"

"I've _never_ heard her so mad," he says in a low voice. "And you know what a temper she has. She was out for _blood_."

"That's as it should be," Linda replies.

"No, I mean literally. I had my work cut out for me, talking her out of going after him." He lets out a bleak laugh. "Trust me, she's not brainwashed."

"Then why would she go _back_ to him?" she demands.

He shrugs. "I'm not clear on the details there. Something about when he was fighting Titan. Speaking of whom," he adds pointedly, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Fighting other villains? Not really in character, is it?"

Linda brushes it off. Nobody's sure exactly where Titan came from; that whole subject was extremely hush-hush. Conspiracy theories—most of which involve Roxanne's cameraman—are still flying. Either way, Megamind's territoriality is common knowledge. "It still doesn't make any _sense!_ She deserves _better_ than some misshapen alien who'll never be able to give her a normal life!" Outside, the mid-day light dims under lowering clouds and the grasses by the cliff bend and quiver in the wind, and raindrops begin to tap at the roof.

He ignores the 'misshapen' comment with some effort. "So what if it might not be the perfect life you imagined for her?" he demands. "So what if they're flawed? She _had_ something like the perfect guy with Peter, and it wasn't right for her!"

This is true, much as she hates to admit it. "So tell me. What do _you_ see in this relationship?"

"_You have no idea_," he groans, flopping forward and scrubbing both hands down his face in feigned exasperation. "You just have absolutely _no_ idea. You've got two people with trust issues up to here, right?" Waving a hand in midair just under his eyeballs. "But when they're hurt, they go to each other. They _talk_ to each other. Their _whole_ relationship is founded on trust and communication. Do you know how _rare_ that is?" he demands, flabbergasted. "To be able to talk about _everything_ together? _Especially_ Roxanne," he adds. "You know she has trouble trusting people, Mom, you _know_ she does. Dad let her down a few too many times growing up."

Linda sighs and rubs her knees, shifts a little so that her hip will stop aching. The trouble with what Drew is saying is that she _does_ know how rare it is for Roxanne to act like this. It just doesn't fit with anything Linda knows about her daughter. And how, how is _Megamind_ the person she has chosen to trust? _How_ is he a good choice?

She knows she can't decide what's the best thing for Roxanne. But she also knows that _this_—whatever 'this' is—can't possibly be the best thing. It's _wrong_.

Crowing his evil. Dancing in circles. Mad laughter echoing around the big room. Pointless additions to machines designed solely to injure. All these little pieces of cruelty, and Roxanne refuses to see them. Worse yet is the possibility that she _does_ see and has willingly joined him in his megalomaniacal, dangerous world. "Andrew, I am only going to say this once," she says in a low voice. Her eyes are distant, she's watching the rain outside. "Aliens have been part of my life since I was three years old. They are a major part of your father's job. You guessed that years ago. Your uncle Rodland introduced us when the two of them were working together on some sort of project involving outworlders. _Rod_ has been involved with aliens since as far back as I can remember and his associations and…and choices tore my family apart."

Finally, she looks over at her son, her mouth set in a grim line. There's a reason she and her husband were able to raise their two children to be so tolerant of people from other worlds—there's a reason Roxanne and Drew are open-minded in the extreme when it comes to physical appearances and biological differences. Still, Linda hadn't expected either of her children to go _this_ far, and she can't help but regret not explaining the dangers when they were younger. "So I hope you'll forgive me if I'm just a little bit _wary_ about cackling alien madmen who claim to be reformed. And you'll forgive me for not wanting that kind of life for my daughter."

She finishes her drink like she has a grudge against it and sets it down on the coffee table, where it does that magical thing that cold glass with liquid in it does when it hits dry, room temperature glass, forming a little ring of moisture that will never quite go away.

She and Orson hadn't wanted their children to be afraid of their father's work or the strange people he sometimes brought home with him, so they'd refrained from explaining the risks and dangers until the children were older—Linda, at first, hadn't agreed; after all, _she'd_ grown up with that fear and turned out okay. But Orson finally pointed out that she'd never be able to shake it, and did she really want her children to go through all that?

Of course not. So they'd talked about other worlds, about the vastness of space and the wonders Rodland had seen out there, and not about why Orson is a dead shot with such a wide variety of weaponry. They'd talked about other countries and cultures and planets and peoples until 'country' and 'planet' ran together in the children's minds and became simply 'unfamiliar, but not unknowable.' It's doubtful that Roxanne really even sees Megamind as an _alien_, and not just a blue man with a big head and weird biological requirements. Drew had never seemed to view Ganeesh as anything other than a person who needed to live in a tank and didn't look remotely human in any way.

She'd messed up. She'd never wanted her children to live with prejudice, she can recognize her own prejudice as something wrong and damaging in its strength, and she stifled it for years for her children's sakes. But—apparently—she'd never taught them necessary caution. _Some_ prejudice is good, isn't it? Isn't it? If it keeps you from being hurt?

Maybe someday she'll work out an answer to that question.

Nearly ten minutes pass before she finally stirs and looks around at Drew again. Outside, the rain dwindles to a drizzle, but the grey sky isn't any brighter. At least it isn't getting any darker, either. "And just how are _you_ so damn certain he isn't playing all of us?"

"You only ever saw the news broadcasts. How are _you_ so certain that's who he really is?"

She half-smiles. "I asked you first."

Drew bites his lip and decides to end this conversation. He could elaborate, since he's done his research, but she's only half-listening to him anymore. If he pushes any harder she'll stop taking him seriously altogether. "Listen. Just listen. There are things you don't know anything about, so…please. Please just _try_ to tolerate him for a few days." He offers her a tight smile. "For my sake, if not for Annie's. _She_ might be out of her mind, but you know _I'm_ not."

Finally, she smiles. It's only half a smile, but it's a real one. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You _need_ to cut him some slack. He didn't want to come out here and face you. He really, _really_ didn't. But he did it for her."

She's had just about enough of this. She has been silent on this subject for far too long, and she's done. "I don't believe he does anything for anyone but himself. This isn't going to last."

"Believe whatever you want, you'll still be wrong." _Shut up_, he reminds himself. _Shut up, you were going to shut up_. But he can't seem to stop going. "_And_ you're lying to yourself—if you really thought it wasn't gonna last, you wouldn't be half so upset. Sooner or later, he's going to be your son-in-law, and you know it."

"Has he asked her?" she asks, suddenly worried.

"Not that I know of." He shakes his head. "But he will. They're already living together, remember, and he wouldn't have come all this way to meet us if it wasn't serious."

Her lips thin, and her stomach roils. She isn't sure why she has such a deeply visceral reaction to the idea, but she does. It's entirely possible that her prejudice is stronger than she knows. "Don't remind me." It honestly makes her want to scream; as much as she can try to be calm and collected, there's a part of her that finds the whole idea absolutely vile. Before she can stop herself, she's adding, "I'm more than half-tempted to make them stay at a hotel."

Drew settles back in his chair, vastly disappointed and not bothering to hide it. "Well, _that's_ not bigoted at all."

Her gaze snaps up. "What—I'm not _bigoted!_"

"Bigot," he snaps, and now that she's finally looking at him she can see exactly how upset he really is about all this. He's been keeping it together very well, but he's starting to lose control again. "'An intolerant person with strong opinions, especially on politics, religion, _or ethnicity_, who refuses to _accept different views_.' Emphasis added."

She's pale. "This has nothing to do with ethnicity."

"Sorry, what was that about how you hate aliens?"

"I don't _hate_ _aliens_," she growls. "And _species_ and _race_ are not the same!"

He bites his tongue, though he really wants to snap right back at her. They _should_ be the same. Once it's determined that both species are of equal intelligence and sentience, it shouldn't matter what the DNA looks like or even what shape someone is. It's never mattered to _him_, after all. As long as they're smart and can give informed consent, what difference does it make? But he knows that's an unpopular view, and he's tried to have _that_ discussion with his parents before. Not going to make that mistake again. "Aren't _you_ the one that taught us not to judge someone based on their outward appearance? Actions are what's important. _You_ taught us that."

"I _am_ judging him by his actions," she hisses. "Ten _years_ of actions as a supervillain, putting her in danger _week_ after _week_ for his personal amusement."

He's fighting a losing battle now. "Maybe that was him flirting."

She scoffs. "Oh, so he flirts with flamethrowers?"

"Yes!" At her scowl, he adds, "I'm serious, Mom. It was the supervillain equivalent of pulling her pigtails. Metro Man would have rescued anyone; it didn't have to be _her_. I'm pretty sure he kept picking on her because he _liked_ her." He shrugs, wishing he'd thought to bring the cranberry juice out to the living room with him instead of putting it back in the fridge. It helps to have something to do with his hands, and taking a drink is a good excuse to pause and collect his thoughts. "And sure, his lack of social skills is appalling, but half the people at my lab are just as bad. Worse, even." He makes a face, but he sounds frank enough. "I hate to buy into the 'awkward nerd' trope, but seriously, have you _met_ my coworkers? Paul's been halfway stalking one of his neighbors for almost three months. _Yikes_."

That gets a chuckle. "I'm glad you've never seemed to have that problem."

He smirks. "_I_ have no sense of shame. It's a gift." Then he sighs and shakes his head. "Just…look, I don't wanna keep beating this dead horse. But…"

Linda heaves a sigh. "Oh, go ahead. Out with it."

"She didn't come home for _how_ many years?" he asks, some real desperation crawling into his voice as he reminds her. "And now _twice_. Thanksgiving and Christmas." Traveling is expensive and that's the excuse Roxanne usually gave about why she couldn't make it home, but Drew is under no illusions. He's only gotten along so well with his parents because he knows how to keep his mouth shut about the important things. Roxanne never learned that trick. "Don't think she won't leave again if you won't at least _try_ to accept her life as it is, without trying to change it." He stands and carries his glass to the sink.

Linda stays where she is, sitting in the middle of the couch with her chin in her hands, her eyes distant.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Megamind has one hand on the doorknob to go back into the house when Roxanne suddenly stops dead in her tracks, her head to one side. He blinks at her. "…Is something wrong?"

She blinks once, then shakes her head no and stuffs her fingers in her ears.

Mystified, Megamind opens the door, and if he hadn't already braced himself for something he might have taken a step back. There's an absolutely _terrible_ noise coming from somewhere inside—upstairs, he thinks, but the smashing cacophony of drumbeats is difficult to trace. "What the heck?" he shouts, but Roxanne just shakes her head and reels over to the kitchen peninsula, drags herself into a barstool and puts her head down on the counter.

Megamind takes the stairs two at a time, and yes, the noise is coming from Drew's room, but at this point he's too bewildered by the noise and concerned about Roxanne to bother knocking, especially when the older man clearly isn't going to hear him.

Roxanne called Drew's room a 'horrific wonderland of confusion,' but other than the awful noise it's not very horrific at all. There's a simple bed below the window, the walls are lined with shelves—okay, the shelves are covered with stuff, but other than that the room is fairly minimalist and none of it looks particularly horrifying. Not quite as horrifying as the drummer in the corner, who has headphones clamped over his ears and his eyes shut and his hands moving almost too fast to follow.

Megamind isn't going to waste time trying to yell; he just goes over and unplugs the headset. Drew stops mid-riff with a yelp of surprise.

"We're back," Megamind says flatly. "Bad day?"

"Eh." He shrugs. "Could be better."

"Your mom?"

"Still has her head up her butt, sad to say. She's barricaded herself into her room." He puts the drumsticks down and stands up and stretches, rubs at his eyes, which are reddish. "I don't think we'll be seeing much more of her tonight."

Megamind hands him the pack of cigarettes from earlier and Drew raises an eyebrow—the box is significantly newer-looking than it had been originally. Megamind colors. "I, uh. I got you a new one."

"You smoked the whole thing?" He watches the alien dump a handful of sad-looking cardboard fluff from his pocket into the trashcan, and up goes his other eyebrow. "And then you shredded the box."

"It was a stressful afternoon."

Drew shrugs and opens the window before tearing open the new pack and lighting up, leaning on the sill to exhale into the winter air. "Don't worry about it. Least I could do. And hey, you wanna talk, I'm not good at it, but I'll try."

That gets a laugh. "I think I'm all talked out." He taps on one of the drums, flicks a cymbal repeatedly until Drew looks over again.

"Y'know, it really is almost funny, the amount of shit you got stuck with."

Megamind snorts. "Yeah. Tell me about it. But I keep telling Roxanne, you know, I'm _over_ it. All the _really_ bad stuff that happened was all before I was even a teenager. It was decades ago; I've moved past it." He folds his arms over his chest. "Doesn't mean I _like_ it, but I'm not…_damaged_, or anything. So what's the big deal?"

"How'd she take it?"

He sighs. "Like you, but with more crying." He neglects to mention that some of the crying was on his part; after all, he has his pride. He's quiet for a moment, then he just flops and sits on the bed and scrubs his hands over his face. "I really shouldn't have said anything at all."

Drew turns around, frowning. "I dunno. Sometimes you gotta get these things out in the open, you know? Get 'em off your chest."

Megamind shrugs and doesn't reply. He'd tried to explain this to Roxanne earlier, on their walk: he knows perfectly well how to deal with things _by himself_. He takes them in, thinks about them for a while, makes his peace with them, and then that's the end of it. Dealing with personal hardships by talking about them really is not his way. But Roxanne doesn't understand that, and apparently neither does Drew, and Megamind is done trying to explain things.

Drew finishes his cigarette and then motions for him to move out of the way so he can start digging around under the bed. "Well," he says, sounding slightly muffled, "I'd be lying if I said I never bottled stuff up. But I know that's not real healthy."

"I don't 'bottle stuff up,'" Megamind tells him, nettled. He's scowling, his mouth a thin line. Clearly, he'd rather just drop the whole thing. "Just because I don't talk about it."

Roxanne's lanky brother reemerges with a sneeze, a shrug, and a large, dusty cardboard box. "Well, man. As long as my sister's happy, I don't much care what you do."

Megamind eyes the box warily. "What's that?"

"Toys," Drew says with a grin, then tromps towards the door to go downstairs. He's not going to force the issue if Megamind is insistent. "You ever play with Legos? Best cure for a bad mood."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Several hours later, the living room floor is a no-walk zone. Tiny bricks are _everywhere_. Roxanne has something resembling a bridge spanning the sofa, and Drew has folded himself into the loveseat again and is busily constructing a scale model of a monoamine.

Megamind hasn't completed anything yet. He'd started off by hunting through the pile with intense focus, setting some pieces aside and discarding others, rifling through for almost an hour and a half before he even began constructing anything. Now he's seated cross-legged on the floor, a small line between his eyebrows, lower lip between his teeth. He sends his hands flickering through the pile of bricks and tiny motors, sorting more bits into the 'use' pile.

Roxanne fully expects him to fine-tune the pile when he finishes picking out pieces, but he doesn't. Instead, he starts to assemble parts of a vaguely pyramidal machine, maybe a foot and a half high. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't stop to think. He finishes the first machine in under an hour, then builds a second as swiftly as he did the first. There are no pieces left over.

Roxanne busies herself with her own pile of Legos and watches, fascinated, until Megamind finally sits up and looks around with a blank expression on his face. "What do you need, hon?"

"Rubik's Cube. Or something shaped like that."

She smiles. "Second drawer down in the side table."

Drew leans over and rummages around in the drawer without leaving the loveseat. Megamind blinks at him and comes a little bit out of his hyper-focus. "Be honest," he says, "You had your spine surgically removed and replaced with a slinky."

He passes the alien the colored toy with a smirk. "Oh, you're one to talk. I'm not sure your pelvis is actually connected to anything. You take dance lessons?"

Megamind shrugs, fiddling with the cube. "Picked some things up from some of my uncles, but no. Why?"

"You move like a belly dancer. Hips go left, ribs go right, it's distracting."

Roxanne doesn't comment; she's watching Megamind mess around with some kind of latched door on the bottom of one of the pyramids. "What are you doing? That machine going to solve it?"

He shakes his head and sets the Rubik's Cube in place, then closes the pyramid again and plugs it into his phone. He scrolls through his list of apps, settles on one Roxanne doesn't recognize from where she's sitting, then sets the phone on the floor.

"Stand back," he says, getting to his feet and backing away.

"Why?" Drew wants to know.

Roxanne is already on her feet and hurrying to hide behind the sofa. "Don't be an idiot. Do as he says." She throws a hand out and catches him by the sleeve, dragging him over the back of the loveseat with surprising strength.

"Oof!" he exclaims, and then yells and covers his eyes to shield himself from the sudden flash of blinding light. Roxanne already had her eyes covered; she'd taken her cue from Megamind, who had his arm over his eyes to begin with. Clearly, the two of them have done this a time or two.

Megamind lowers his arm and peers over the couch, then looks at the two humans and smirks. "Take a look."

Drew stands up, blinking the spots out of his vision, and Roxanne peers over the back of the couch—Megamind hasn't stood, so neither will she.

The Lego machines are both intact, but the Rubik's Cube has disappeared. "Where'd it go?"

"Get _down_."

Mystified, but not stupid enough to hesitate a second time, Drew complies. The weird little smirk hasn't left Megamind's lips. "Three…two…"

There's another flash and a sudden _crack_, and Megamind shoots to his feet and lets out a whoop. Roxanne scrambles up, looks around, sees that the Rubik's cube has reappeared in the second pyramid, and grins happily and drags her boyfriend into a side hug, bumping her head against his shoulder. "Congratulations, sweetie. Legos? Really?"

"Yes yes yes," Megamind says gleefully, dancing in a very small circle. "Haahahaha. _Yes_."

Drew has to take a few seconds to find his voice. "That's—that's impossible. That's _impossible_."

"Oh, obviously," Roxanne agrees, drawling sarcasm, eyes dancing as she looks at Megamind, who looks happier than he's been all day. "Isn't this one of the ones from, oh, what was it…_The Possibilities of Impossible Structures?_"

He stops dancing and stares at her, a surprised little smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "You read that?" Roxanne shrugs and smiles back, coloring a little, and he scrunches his nose at her, bewildered but pleased. "But it was under an assumed name! How did you find it?"

"I know people," she tells him. "Research."

"You are an incredible woman," he says flatly, "and I love you. Really? You read the whole thing?"

"What do you think I used when I went to work on Nibs?" she asks, and takes his hand and squeezes it. "I didn't do all that by myself. Minion helped, too, but we're no supergeniuses."

Drew is still staring openmouthed at the pair of pyramids, each of which is probably a good foot and a half high. "But _how?_"

"I _am_ a supergenius," Megamind reminds him. "Just because I no longer flaunt it doesn't mean I can't use it when I want to. Exhibit _A_," he adds smugly, waving at the small Lego structures with pride, "a fully functional parallel entanglement tunnel made of Legos and powered by a smartphone." He smirks, but then it slides into something more like a proud grin as he glances at Roxanne. "It's no AI, though."

She leans away and blinks up at him in mock-astonishment. "What's this? Sharing the spotlight?" He pretends to huff at her, and she chuckles. "I was only building off _your_ designs, you know that."

He doesn't look like he cares very much. "True, but you had to understand them first. Not every human can say they _improved_ on the work of an alien supergenius."

Drew resigns himself to being ignored; if they're going to carry on without explaining what they're talking about, he's going to poke around the transporter. Parallel thingy tunnel. Whatever. He clambers over the back of the couch and picks up the now-empty machine, turning it around in his hands. It's a _lot_ heavier than he'd expected.

Then he picks up the other machine to study the cube inside. "It's upside down," he says after a moment.

Megamind sends him a strange look. "It's a cube. It has no up or down."

Drew looks over and holds up the pyramid for inspection. "No, I mean, this side was on the bottom before it transferred."

"Huh." Megamind blinks. "That's odd, I didn't expect that. What do you think caused it?"

Drew snorts. "You're asking me?" He shakes his head, a chagrined smile playing across his features. "Man, I am flattered you respect me enough to ask my opinion, but I'm a _neuroscientist_. I got nothin'."

Megamind's eyebrows shoot skyward as he remembers something. "Oh! Oh, do you want me to look at that thing you're working on?"

Drew's focus narrows. "Would you? That would be awesome. There's something up with the specs the client sent me, I dunno, they're weird. Nothing I've ever seen before. I can _do_ it, but I'd really appreciate a second opinion before I start something."

Megamind shrugs. "I'm no biologist, but between the two of us I think we can figure it out."

Roxanne clears her throat. "Would you two mind maybe doing that later? Either of you hungry? Because I am."

"Do you even need to ask?" Drew says, grinning, and Megamind nods. "Mom said something about fish, I think. But unless you've had cooking classes since you disappeared to the frozen north, maybe we'd better just order a pizza."

Megamind glances at him. "You can't cook, either?"

"I live on PB&J and the good graces of my many friends."

He blinks, frowns. "I don't think I know what that means."

"It means he's a mooch," Roxanne clarifies flatly, and Drew glares at her in mock-outrage.

"I am _not!_ I always help pay for stuff."

She gives him a frank look. "How many chefs, was it? Three?" He grins and waggles four fingers at her. She nods. "Thought so."

"Hey, in my defense, the last one is a line cook, not a chef, and she asked _me_," he defends himself. "And usually the last thing any cook wants to do after a long day is get home and cook _more_. I am not in it for the food."

"Just the protein," she mutters as she heads over to look in the fridge.

Her brother is honestly speechless for a second before he stammers out, "Oh, now _that_ was tasteless." When she turns back around he immediately goes pale and holds out both hands. "No! Don't say it. I walked right into that one, you don't have to say it."

She laughs, but relents. "I don't suppose one of your foodie buddies would be willing to come over and help?"

He grimaces and shakes his head. "I mean…probably Amy wouldn't mind. But…"

She cocks her head. "What?"

"I try not to mix family and pleasure." He gives an exaggerated shudder and wrinkles up his face, sticking out his tongue. "Gets…_messy_."

Megamind's voice makes them both jump and look over at him—he has his phone out and a scowl on his face. "Yeah, hi, don't say anything, just tell me you know how to cook fish. …Uh, let me check. What kind?" He glances over at Roxanne, raising an eyebrow.

She lifts a shape wrapped in white butcher paper out of the fridge and reads the label. "Catfish."

"Catfish," Megamind says, then blinks. "_I_ don't know! No, _don't_ tell Minion I'm cooking! Not for at least an hour. He'll worry himself sick, that's why I called _you_."

"I'll do it," Roxanne calls over.

"Roxanne says she can handle it," Megamind tells the person on the other end. "What? Oh." He sound abruptly dismayed. "Seriously? That bad?"

She sends him a sharp look. "Is that Wayne? Because if it is, remind him that the grouper incident was _not_ my fault."

He relays this information, then chuckles. "He says to tell you, 'noodles.'"

She turns bright red and hisses something that sounds like _gonna kill him_.

"Okay. Corn meal? Isn't there anything that isn't…oh, okay then. Yes, _gloat_ about it, Mr. I-Can't-Eat-Pears," he adds scathingly. The scowl is starting to creep back onto his face. "Okay. Eggs and flour is okay? But when do I…but what _kind_ of brown? …_That doesn't help_. Ask Minion what happened the last time I tried that, he'll tell you; you're apparently all buddy-buddy with him now. Yes. Oh ha ha, very funny. Thanks. Goodbye." He stabs the 'end call' button and groans, then glares over at Roxanne as if it's her fault he's annoyed. "Of all the inconsiderate, _rude_—_how_ did you _tolerate_ being associated with that man for seven years? Smug, smirking son of a salmon, don't know why I even bother…"

Drew is staring. "Wayne? Not Metro Man."

Megamind stuffs the phone in his pocket with an angry grumbling noise. "Metro Man is dead."

"Then who is Wayne?" Drew asks suspiciously. "If he isn't Metro Man."

Megamind opens his mouth, then pauses and frowns a little before looking up at him. "You know, that's a very good question," he says, "and if you figure it out, you should let him know."

"But—"

"Drew," Roxanne says when Megamind starts scowling again. "Listen very carefully: _Metro Man_ is dead."

Drew blinks at her, then at Megamind. Roxanne looks very steady, and Megamind looks the way he used to on TV sometimes when he was trying to look threatening but wasn't sure if something was going to explode.

So Metro Man is dead, but Wayne Scott is alive—Drew isn't quite sure how that works, but that 'if you figure it out, let him know' thing was telling. He's no expert on the psychological effects of being a superhero, but he knows what wearing masks for too long can do to people. From the way the other two are acting…_I'll probably get a better answer if I just contact him myself_.

He drops the subject. "So did you find out about the fish?"

Megamind nods, looking relieved to be out of dangerous waters. "Dip in egg, then roll in flour. Fry in pan until brown and crispy on both sides. Sounds simple enough. Why is the rich guy with the personal chef the one who knows how to cook?"

Roxanne shrugs. "Might have something to do with living underground for almost a year. But anyway, I think I can do that. You guys make some kind of side?"

They stare at her blankly.

"Didn't you want to learn how to mash potatoes?" She looks at her brother. "Drew, you sounded yesterday like you knew how to make them."

Megamind's whole face lights up. "Can we?"

Drew grins, relieved. "Potatoes! _Those_, yes, those I can do. Do we have any?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It turns out they do have some potatoes in a hydrator drawer in the refrigerator, and Drew and Megamind set about peeling them with a will. Since they'll take longer than the fish, Roxanne decides to sit back and watch the show, which is actually rather funny. Megamind is good with any number of machines that could kill him if he slipped, but hand him a paring knife and he's all thumbs. Drew isn't much better, but there's only one peeler, so they end up trading it back and forth whenever the person with the knife gets sick of it.

"At least you don't get cut _every_ time you miss," Drew grumbles, sticking his thumb in his mouth and scowling. "You must have skin like an elephant. Give me the stupid peeler."

Megamind passes it over to him and takes up the knife, tongue between his teeth as he focuses on getting _every bit of discoloration_ out of the potato. "This is the most mind-numbing activity," he complains. "I don't know _how_ Minion does it. He claims it's _relaxing_, can you imagine?"

"_Ow!_ Aaa_aargh_."

He looks up at the taller man with a quizzical grin, trying not to laugh. "Did you just cut yourself with a potato peeler? Maybe I'm not all that tough; maybe you're just exceptionally frag-aisle." He pauses, then frowns. "Maybe you should stop stabbing it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Drew grits from between his teeth, "this is what the recipe says to do."

Megamind checks. "Nnnno, it says 'cut into two-inch chunks and…don't point that thing at _me!_"

By the time the potatoes are finally finished boiling—Roxanne had tried to point out the 'baked potato' microwave setting, but the two geniuses decided they didn't trust it and insisted on sticking to the recipe instead—tempers are running high. Particularly Megamind's. He isn't used to sharp things with the audacity to actually _cut_ him, and while nothing managed to break his skin, he is scraped up a little. "This," he complains. "_This_ is why I wear gloves."

"Oh, poor _baby_," Roxanne croons sarcastically while digging out a bag of flour from the back of the pantry. "Want me to kiss it?"

"Yes," he answers happily, opting to ignore her sarcasm and play up his semi-oblivious nature. "Yes, I really think you should." Unfortunately, the smirk he sends at her back ruins the innocent expression he'd been aiming for.

"Oh, _gag_ me!" Drew interrupts. "Can you two not be cute _here_, please?"

Luckily, not much remains to be done once the sliced potatoes are drained and dried except to mash them—less luckily, this activity is made more complicated by the fact that Roxanne is now in the middle of attempting to fry catfish, and three unskilled cooks in a small kitchen is a recipe for disaster. Particularly when all three have had a long day.

Roxanne turns the fish and makes a mental note to have only _one_ potato masher in the house at a time. "Stop fencing with those! You're getting mush everywhere!"

"Back! Get back, it's my turn!"

"You _had_ your turn!"

"Ages ago! I want another try!

"If you don't shut up _right now_, I'm going to throw this oil _all over both of you!_" she cries desperately. The fish is sticking to the pan a little. Is a little okay? Should it be sticking at all? How does fish even manage to stick to a pan filled with oil? Is it going to burn? Is it _already_ burning?

"You wouldn't dare! And _he_ started it!" Megamind snaps, hugging the bowl of hot potatoes to his stomach and menacing Drew with the masher. "Give me the milk, fiend!"

"Only if I get to add it! You'll mess it up."

"I will not! I will add it a little at a time, as the recipe says to do!"

The pan chooses that moment to crackle and spit, and Megamind leaps sideways with a pained yip of surprise, staring at Roxanne like she's just betrayed him. She glares right back, utterly unsympathetic. "That was _not_ me. That was the grease."

Drew takes advantage of Megamind's distraction to steal the potatoes. "Ha!"

"Wha—" He looks up, radiating shock and hilariously childish outrage. "_Hey!_"

The startling sound of choked laughter makes all three of them pause and turn to see—unexpectedly enough—Linda, standing in the doorway of her room, clinging to the frame for support and absolutely _crying_ with mirth. She'd come out to wait for the pizza delivery, become distracted by the cries of distress, and paused to watch. The door to the master bedroom almost faces the kitchen, so it's an easy place to stand without being noticed and observe, but the frustration and protesting and the potatoes and the fish and _Megamind's_ _face_ and Drew's manic grin and Roxanne's scowl and it was all just too _funny_. She can't even gather enough breath to speak; the more she watches, the funnier it gets. Especially now, with everyone looking so _confused_.

Megamind's surprised expression slips into a bleak scowl and Linda finally manages to gasp out, "_You_," right before the pan snaps and spits again. It's a good thing the alien isn't holding the potatoes anymore; this time, he jumps a good two feet in the air with a noise like "Yeek!" and lands with an accusing finger aimed at the stove. Linda loses all control all over again. How does he _move_ like that?

"That thing is evil!" Megamind exclaims shrilly. "And I should know! Dows it at once!"

"It's _douse_, and don't boss a lady with a hot flipper," Roxanne warns, aiming it at him.

"Then make it stop _biting_ me!" He skips back a couple steps, still glaring. At her, at the pan, at Drew. Very pointedly _not_ at Linda.

"You okay, Mom?" Drew calls over, just as the doorbell rings. Linda staggers off, flapping a hand at him, still half-sobbing with laughter. She manages to rasp something about cleaning up before she vanishes into her room again and clicks the lock behind her.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

For all the chaos that accompanied the cooking and the subsequent clean up, the actual _dinner_ is fairly calm. Conversation doesn't start up until everyone is on their second piece of fish; Megamind isn't sure about either of the humans, but he was too hungry to put much effort into talking once they finally sat down to eat. The food needs salt but otherwise it's good, even though none of them is particularly adept at cooking things that don't come in packets. All in all, it's a success.

Eventually Roxanne reaches for her glass and glances at her brother. "So the band is still together, then?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah. We opened for Goat Candle a couple months ago, it was _awesome_."

Megamind desperately tries to stifle a snort. Roxanne giggles openly. "G-_Goat Candle?_"

Drew grimaces. "Their fans freak me out. But Horizontal got some recognition and some face-time, so that's good."

She shakes her head. "I still can't believe you're in a _metal_ band, though. That's so _bizarre_."

Megamind tenses, because 'bizarre' in that tone of voice is not something that usually gets a good response, but Drew just shrugs and returns to his potatoes. "No weirder than you growing up to be a TV news reporter," he replies calmly, then looks over at Megamind, who stares like a deer in the headlights. "My sister. I tell you what. She was so terrified of public speaking that she faked a stomach flu to get out of speaking as valedictorian at her high school graduation."

"I was _not_ faking! I threw up and everything!"

"Oh, sure, you were sick all right." He rolls his eyes. "But it was nerves, not the flu. She was sick as a dog, right up until Dad said she was too sick to go to the ceremony, then it was amazing how fast she recovered."

Roxanne glares. "I hate you."

"No you don't. You love me. Everyone loves me."

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

He grins at her, cocks an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

"Of you? Puh-lease." She grins right back. "At least I don't have to _seduce_ my friends into liking me."

"I don't have sex with _all_ my friends."

"Name six that you haven't. Co-workers don't count and neither does the band. Or married people."

He doesn't even hesitate. He's always very clear about his intentions at the outset, and some people just aren't compatible with the idea of sex without any possibility of romantic attraction. And some people just aren't compatible with the idea of sex at all. "Becky, Dori, Alex, Alan, Rowan, and Mark. They like me because I'm such a _wonderful_ person." His grin turns into more of a smirk. "Should've asked me before I had time to think about it, sister dear," he admonishes.

She scowls at him. "You are a nymphomaniac."

"I'm good at what I do," he says loftily, "and what I do is people."

"You're a _siren_ is what you are. I have no idea how you get so much action. I swear, you're not even that hot."

"Well, I'd be disturbed if my _sister_ thought I was hot."

"You're disturbing, all right," she huffs. "Remind me again, _how_ many of my boyfriends did you steal when I was in high school and college?"

"Hey, now," he says reproachfully, "Only two, and I wasn't even _trying_. Besides, if they were that inclined to cheat on you with your brother, wasn't it better to find out they swing that way sooner rather than later?"

"_Everyone_ swings your way. You're a _freak_."

And so the conversation goes. If conversation is the right word. With so many insults flying without pause for breath or thought, Megamind would have been inclined to categorize it as an argument—if not for the smiles and complete lack of perceivable hostility. This is _weird_. This is insults with smiling. Is it banter? It sounds too mean to really qualify as banter, but everyone seems happy. This isn't something Megamind knows what to do with as a third party.

Suddenly Drew sits up and snaps his fingers again, apparently remembering something. "Oh. Speaking of doing people. Did you want me to find somewhere else to sleep tonight?"

Megamind blinks and rocks back in his chair, now confused beyond belief, but Roxanne nods. "If you don't mind, yeah, that would be awesome."

Megamind looks at her and finally has to ask, "What's going on?"

"I dunno about you," Drew says, already clicking through contacts on his phone, "but Roxanne is a Ritchi. We aren't exactly _quiet_."

"Drew!" she protests, but he just smirks.

"Look, you know it's true, I know it's true. I'm sure _he_ knows it's true." He jerks his chin in Megamind's direction. "You're my _sister_. I don't need to be listening to that." Then he sends an apologetically meaningful glance in the alien's direction. "Between you and me, the insulation in this house is absolute crap. So be quiet, okay?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, too stunned to even begin to figure out a response. Drew has returned his attention to his phone and doesn't appear to notice.

Roxanne scowls at her brother, craning her head to try to see who he's texting. "You could just go home for the night," she points out.

"I could," he agrees affably, hitting 'send,' "but you have to admit, this is more fun. Besides, home is on the other side of town."

"So you're going to your little black book because you're too lazy to drive." Roxanne shakes her head at him, feigning disgust but not quite succeeding in hiding her amused little smile.

Drew snorts. "_No_, I'm going to my little black book because if I'm gonna get screwed up the butt I'd rather it not be by the price of gas. Or holiday traffic."

Even Megamind has to laugh at that one, but honestly, he isn't quite sure what to make of the totally aboveboard way they're discussing all this. Sex is something he _does_—much to his eternal surprise—not something he _talks_ about, even with Roxanne, unless they're in the middle of it. But here they're just chatting easily about noise, and timing, and the prospect of screwing, and apparently now Drew _knows_ his sister is going to be doing _things_ with him tonight and is fine with that? Of course he'd be fine with the _fact_, but knowing _when?_ And details? And it's full of what sound to him like blatant insults but maybe those are just jokes? And somehow Megamind is the only one who finds this the least bit awkward and confusing?

Apparently so.

Maybe this is what it's like, then—having family. He's always wondered. If Roxanne weren't family, Linda would have kicked both of them out by now and Drew wouldn't be half as open about everything as he is. _It must be sort of like having friends_, Megamind thinks, only less complicated in some areas and more complicated in others. Like with the friendly insults. Bradley calls him 'Freak' in a friendly way, but that's different. That's a _nickname_. That's not saying, 'you only have friends because you're good in bed' or 'your life choices are weird.'

These are two people he's really comfortable with, and he's _still_ completely out of his depth.

There's a feeling twisting deep inside, but it takes him a minute or so to recognize it. When he does he stands and quietly excuses himself, goes into the bathroom, crawls into the tub with his phone, and dials.

"Sir?"

He exhales shakily. "Minion. You have a minute?"

"Always, Sir. You know that. How's the trip going? Is everything okay so far?"

Megamind opens his mouth, then closes it, unable to decide what to say. And he's not sure he'll be able to say it when he figures it out.

Minion waits a few seconds, then prompts, "Hello?" It doesn't help that he sounds concerned.

"I miss you," Megamind finally blurts. A surprised silence follows this, and he just feels _gross_. Small and alien and blue and two thousand miles outside his comfort zone. He swallows and hugs his legs, drops his forehead to his knees.

Minion, who is on his way back to the Lair to take care of some things, frowns. He hadn't expected Megamind to say anything along _those_ lines—give him an update, maybe, explain some things about Roxanne's family—but it isn't until he hears a damp-sounding sniff that he realizes how upset his friend is. "What happened? Did you and Miss Ritchi get in a fight?"

"No, it's just…s_tuff_," Megamind says in a wobbly voice, and oh, this is bad; he _never_ generalizes like that. "I just—I don't know what I'm doing. There's all these jokes and…and the dynamic is all _wrong_. All the stuff you don't say, I guess it's okay to say it to family? But some of the stuff you _do_ say gets held back? Especially in confrontations?" He sounds deeply troubled, almost disturbed.

Minion rubs the front of his dome on reflex. It's school all over again. Social situations have never been Megamind's forte; he'd escaped having to deal with the social ramifications of being unable to pick up on the majority of human cues by resigning himself to never fitting in and making sure everybody knew not to tangle with him. The most he's ever been able to do is memorize patterns and get along that way, but a candid family group isn't something he's encountered so closely before, so he has no roadmap of how to proceed. And, of course, now that he's trying to build something with Roxanne's family, all the intricate social dynamics suddenly matter more than ever. He's flying blind, and that's not something Megamind likes to do.

"Sir, have you talked to Miss Ritchi about any of this? I'm sure she'd be willing to help—"

"No. I can't, I…it's been a bad day for both of us and she's…" He falters, not sure how to describe what she's doing with Drew right now. "I don't want to bring her down again just because I'm an emotional idiot." _There_, he thinks, _that's true enough_.

Minion isn't quite sure what _that_ means, but he decides to leave it alone for now. "Where are you?"

"In the bathroom. And." There's an audible gulp, but Minion knows better than to draw attention to it. "And everyone is being so _nice_ to me. Well, except Linda, but…I can't trust it. Minion, I don't _understand!_"

The little fish sits up straight. "Did you tell them who you are?"

"I—yeah. It was a disaster, but you know we expected that. That's not the problem." Megamind draws a shuddery breath and does his best to calm down. "The problem is I don't know what's going _on!_ I don't know what I'm doing. There's all this human social interplay going on around me and I don't know what's important and what isn't. I don't know the rules. I don't know _anything_ useful, and as soon as I make a mistake it's all going to blow up in my face and…we'll go back to square one. Where I'm just the weird blue thing nobody likes and nobody wants." He knows he's being over-dramatic with that last bit, since too many people like him now for it to be really true unless he somehow manages to screw up _royally_. But really, it still feels that way sometimes.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Minion says, trying to sound encouraging. "Miss Ritchi's been very understanding of your social gaffs. She'll help you smooth things over if you need it, you know that."

"But I don't _want_ her to have to smooth things over!" Megamind exclaims. "I want to get this _right_ without making her have to constantly apologize for the weird alien's bizarre behavior. She shouldn't have to…to _watch_ me the whole time like I'm some _animal_ that needs a _handler_." He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, shaking his head. "Minion, I hate this. I hate not knowing what buttons are safe to push and which will fire the death ray. Right now she and Drew are in there teasing each other about his indi-scry-minate promiscuity and her…noisiness. During sex." He hears a sound from Minion's end that sounds suspiciously like a snort of laughter poorly disguised as a watery cough and sits up straight in the tub, scowling at empty air. "It's not _funny_, Minion! They're actually _talking_ about that over the dinner table. What on Earth am I supposed to _do_ with that? There is literally _nothing_ I can think of to add to that conversation that could possibly be safe to say!"

"Then don't say anything, Sir. Just observe." He's still trying to sound as upbeat as he can; Megamind tends to listen better when Minion refuses to join him in his insecurities. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. In the meantime, _I'm_ not there, but that doesn't mean you're alone. You have Miss Ritchi! Tell her what's confusing you, she'll help you."

Megamind scowls. Minion can _hear_ him scowling. "She'll think I'm an idiot."

"No, she won't," Minion says patiently. "And even if she does, she's caught you being foolish before. It isn't going to change the way she feels about you. Trust her, sir. Let her help."

"I guess," he mutters. Then he heaves an exasperated sigh. "I just wish I was back at Evil Lair where everything makes_ sense!_ I can't even handle her and Drew alone. What am I going to do when her father shows up tomorrow and I have to deal with Linda again?"

"Linda's not there?"

"No." Megamind lets his head fall back against the shower wall with a thump and rolls his eyes. "She's hiding in her room so she doesn't have to look at me. She _really_ hates me. And she's _completely_ justified," he adds quickly, before Minion can say anything, "you know she is. So I'll probably never convince her that I'm a changed man, and that's fine, I mean, I'm used to _that_." He pauses, but Minion stays quiet. Megamind bites his lip. "I just wish... I _wish_ she'd stop yelling at Roxanne about it!" he blurts out, then bites his lip again, shaking his head hard in an attempt to calm the whirling thoughts. He's completely forgotten that Linda's room is right on the other side of the wall and he should maybe keep his voice down. "I'm—I'm causing all this upset between Roxanne and her family just by _being_ with her. Not even _doing_ anything, anymore!" he exclaims. "Just by…being me. With her. Roxanne _said_ that's okay, but—but it's worse than I expected. It's causing so much _hostility_ between her and her mother, and I don't know what to do about it. I don't want her to have to choose between me and Linda."

"Because you're afraid she won't choose you?"

"No, quite the opposite. I'm ninety-six—okay, ninety-_two_ percent certain she'd choose me if it came to that." He chuckles nervously, spinning the ring on his right hand. "That's the problem. I don't _want_ her to do that, not for me. Not for _anybody_," he corrects himself. "It's _stupid_. And I can't even _do_ anything about it! They're both so darn _stubborn!_" He thumps a gentle fist against the side of the tub a few times, scowling at nothing. "I should have just stayed in Metrocity. I'm so…useless here. I don't know what to do, Minion."

There's a long pause. Finally Minion asks, "Sir, do you want me to come get you?"

He sighs, long and resigned, and rubs his long fingers over his face before answering. "Ugh, no, Minion. I appreciate the offer, but I'll be all right. I'm just…frustrated, I think. And homesick. It helps to hear your voice."

Minion almost stammers at that; Megamind rarely admits things like that. He recovers quickly. "Well, Sir, you know you can call me anytime."

"Thank you, Minion. You always know what to say."

A knock sounds at the door followed by Roxanne's voice, "Sweetie, are you okay in there?"

_Great_, he thinks, pinching the bridge of his nose, _spent too long in the bathroom_. He raises his voice, calls back, "I'm fine. Be out in a minute."

"Are you sure? You've been in there a while." Roxanne pauses. "And I'm not sure, but I think I was getting some blips on my Minion Radar." Another pause, during which Megamind makes a silent _Aaaarghhh_ face and and slumps, gritting his teeth and thumping his forehead repeatedly against his knees in frustration. "Was that you?"

He raises his head, forces himself to sound normal and not irritated or defensive. "I'm on the phone with him now. Sorry I disturbed both of you."

"It's okay," the doorknob turns slowly and she peeks her head in. "What's wrong?" she asks, a sympathetic little bewildered smile curving her lips. "You looked kind of uncomfortable when you left."

He smiles brightly. "I'm fine."

Unfortunately, he'd briefly forgotten that Minion could still hear him. They usually communicate via watch, so Megamind isn't quite used to having a line that's open both ways. "_Sir_," warns the fish over the phone.

Megamind huffs. "Oh, _all right_. I was just feeling a little overwhelmed, okay? I needed to be alone for a few minutes. _I'm fine_."

"Sir, that wasn't _quite_ the approach I was thinking," Minion says dryly, but there's no reply. Megamind is probably sticking his tongue out at the phone.

"Do you want me to leave?" Roxanne asks.

He sighs and gives up. "No, it's okay. Minion talked me through it."

"Thank you, Minion," Roxanne said, raising her voice to be sure the fish could hear her through the phone.

"No problem, Miss Ritchi," the little ichthyoid calls back. Megamind grimaces and holds the phone away from his ear. "Take good care of him for me, would you?"

"Oh, for evil's sake, _I'm fine_. Good _night_, Minion."

Minion doesn't sound at all bothered by his friend's gruff tone, calling cheerfully, "G'night, Sir!"

Megamind clicks the phone closed and accepts Roxanne's proffered hand to help him up out of the tub. Once he's back on his feet, she asks, "What's wrong? It's more than just Drew and me being crude at dinner, isn't it?"

He makes an inarticulate grumbling noise, then says, "Look, it's been a long day, can we talk about it tomorrow?"

She narrows her eyes at him.

"I promise, I'll tell you all about it in the morning," he says, and she can tell that, as disgruntled and possibly upset as he might be right now, he's being totally sincere. He might be able to fool the rest of the city, but he sucks at feigning sincerity with her. "And if I don't, you can call Minion and get it out of him. But tonight…" He trails off, shaking his head. Then he looks at her and just comes right out and says flatly, "I am tired, and emotionally drained, and I need to relax with you and not _worry_ for a while."

She looks at him, and he really does look as tired as she feels. Honestly, she doesn't really feel up to a heavy conversation tonight. "Okay," she concedes, "But tomorrow, you spill."

He lets out a little relieved puff through his nose and nods. "Of course."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It isn't really a night for words.

There have been words all day, words upon words, shouted, whispered, spoken. Too many words, with too much to think about, and far too many bad ones. Old words too long left unsaid and new words rashly thrown to light. It comes as no surprise that when Megamind and Roxanne finally fall into bed, they're both exhausted. It's been a long day and hard on both of them, emotions running hot and cold, and by now they're feeling blank and empty.

But they need each other. They badly need to reaffirm that they are real, in their skins, with each other.

There are no words when they start; they're already on the same page. There are no words during; other nights they sometimes try new things together, and then they talk and question, but not tonight. They've been learning _this_ dance for weeks and months and they both know what to do and when. Where to put their arms, their hands. Fingers twisting, curling, thumbs. _Turn_. Palms flat and press. Quiet, _quiet_, hip to hip, push her down, hold him up. Move. Breathe. Inhale, exhale, _gasp_, head back. Eyes go wide and mouths follow and _yes_. Follow her over. Follow him down.

_After_—

No. After, there are still no words. She strokes her hand across his cheek, down the strong length of his neck, and he touches foreheads and nuzzles gently then falls back and lies quietly next to her, their damp fingers tangled under the sheets. Neither of them is particularly interested in locating their pajamas. They lie together, breathing, skin against skin over muscle and bone and being. _Being_ is about all they can do at this point, but as long as they're being _together_, they'll be all right.


	11. Chapter 11

I was going to post this last week, just a few finishing touches left, and then…then finals week happened. And the research paper of doom. Can I write twenty pages on a tax deduction? Yes. Yes I can. Will I enjoy it? _Not a chance_. It was mildly interesting, though.

Anyway, if any of you are starting to worry this fic is going to be abandoned, fear not! I'm far from letting go my stranglehold on Cold Fusion. Thanks for bearing with me, you glorious person, you. Here is a hug and a plate of gluten-free cookies. And a new chapter! As always, if there are glaring grammar errors or if you have any criticisms—questions, comments, concerns, something doesn't make sense, holy crap Dal what were you _thinking_—please don't hesitate to let me know!

I own Drew and Orson. I also own Egg Things. And I love you.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

He jumps into consciousness with a panicked gasp and a full-body twitch and immediately starts flexing his fingers, reassuring himself that it was only a dream, only to let out a yelp when Roxanne whispers over, "You awake? Or are you gonna start kicking me?"

Megamind blinks a few times. "No, I'm—I'm up, did I wake you?"

Roxanne snorts, embarrassed. "Oh. Okay then. No, I was up already, I had to pee. You okay?" she adds when he sits up.

"Yeah." He groans and rubs both hands up and down his face, trying to clear his sleep-muddled thoughts. "I'm okay, I'm fine."

Roxanne sits up too, her head on one side, studying him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He looks at her, then sighs. "You're tired, you should go back to sleep." He knows she won't, but if he doesn't at least _offer_ to wait until morning this will just be him being needy again, and he hates that.

"I'm okay, it's hours until sunup." Roxanne stretches a little and shakes her head. "What's up?"

Megamind shrugs and leans back against the headboard. "I'm just anxious, I think. I don't know what I'm doing." Anxious or not, dreams or not, he does feel much better now than he had earlier that evening. Much sharper, much less upset and confused. The stress is gone.

Roxanne settles in against him, pulls his arm around her, and he kisses her hair and then looks up at the blank ceiling with its long cracks in the paint. Roxanne's room does not have overhead lights, only floor and table lamps, which is an arrangement he's never really understood. Strange that he's thinking of this now.

"How don't you know what you're doing?" she asks, bringing him back.

"Conversations. Behaviors. Social cues." He isn't really sure how to explain.

She frowns a little, rubbing a hand up and down his leg, squeezing gently. "Is this what you were calling Minion about earlier?"

He nods, covers her hand with his longer one. "Yeah. I just don't want you to…to feel like you have to babysit me."

The way she blinks and tilts her head back to blink up at his face in genuine surprise is honestly very reassuring. "Wait, what?" She cups his face now, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. "Sweetie."

He shrugs, feeling foolish now. "I know, I know. But I'm socially stunted, we both know that, and sometimes…sometimes I worry I've said the wrong thing or done something no _normal_ person would ever do in response to a fairly basic stimulus, and…"

"Do you think I'll be embarrassed to be seen with you?"

Trust Roxanne to cut right to the heart of the problem. Megamind nods slowly. "I suppose that's…a big part of it, yes. And I don't _want_ you to be embarrassed for me, I don't _want_ you to have to make excuses for me. I want to get this _right_." He huffs an exasperated sigh, lifts a hand but flops it back into his lap. "But there's so much I still don't understand!"

"Like what?" She frowns. "You're doing great, you really are."

"Conversations with family aren't like anything I've encountered before," Megamind grumbles. "You and your mother—if two friends had fights like those, they wouldn't be friends anymore. So there are things you're allowed to say to family that you can't to friends, I understand _that_." Then he shakes his head. "But the way you and Drew treat each other is…well, it's _sort_ of the way a few of my uncles would act with each other. But that was usually a power play, or there was some kind of goal in mind." He frowns, trying to figure out how to word this. "He's your _brother_. Is it normal for siblings to be that…open? About everything?" He looks at her, eyebrows up, asking for a response.

Roxanne smiles tiredly. She's slid her hand down to his shoulder, now, and she gently pushes him to lie back down. "The reason I'm so open with Drew is that he's known me all my life," she says as Megamind slides under the covers again. Once he's more or less situated, she snuggles down with him, squirming to get comfortable. "And _he's_ completely open about pretty much everything—I'm sure you've noticed! He's like that with everybody. Here, can you lie on your back?" Megamind nods and folds his pillow lengthwise, shoves it behind his neck. Roxanne settles down against his side with his arm around her waist and her head on his chest, the way she'd lain the very first morning when he'd woken up in her bed with aching ribs and eleven million questions pounding between his eyes. "Thanks. And he's encouraged me to be that way with him. My whole life, he's always been the _one_ person I could count on to be there for me, no matter what. Because he's my big brother. And because that's sort of who he is."

"But that's not _normal_," Megamind presses. "Is it?"

"Not really."

Megamind is still trying to get the hang of interacting with so-called 'normal' humans, so the ones who act outside the norm are especially difficult for him to place. Like with Jo. It had taken him _weeks_ to realize that the short woman's pushiness could be avoided if he just called her on it and told her to stuff it, and doing that was okay because they were friends and she _knew_ she could be overly bossy sometimes. But saying something like that to Roxanne would be bad in most contexts.

"I didn't _think_ that was normal," he mutters, frowning up at the ceiling. By and large, he does have a good feel for interacting with people. So far, he hasn't overstepped too many social boundaries, and people seem surprised when he mentions he's not always clear on whether he's done or said the right thing.

Knowing he's _probably_ okay doesn't keep him from being nervous about it, though.

Roxanne chuckles. "Well, being able to trust people and share things, that's…it's pretty big, and usually that's what family is about. But like I said, he's that way with everybody, and it works for him. People trust him really easily—and a lot of the time they end up having sex with him. I'd say it's complicated, but it doesn't seem to be."

Megamind struggles to wrap his head around that for a few seconds. "So you just…what, make fun of him for it?"

She shrugs gently. "If he was _bothered_ by the way everybody seems to want in his pants, I wouldn't. But he thinks it's funny, so yeah, I make _endless_ fun of him." She's quiet for a moment. "Sort of the way I tease you about stuff, you know? The stuff that doesn't bother you. Like how you have different organs than me. If…well, if another reporter tried that, you'd be offended, but you don't seem to mind it when it comes from me." She yawns, turns her head, presses a kiss to the blue skin just under the curve of his collarbone. "You know? It's why…it's why life partners are so important to so many people, I guess. You have to find somebody _outside_ your family to be your family."

It's an offhand comment; she doesn't really think about it. Honestly, she's almost half-asleep again, but for some reason Megamind gasps, "Wh-_what?_"

Roxanne blinks her eyes open and hoists herself onto her elbow, wondering what on earth is wrong now. Megamind's pained surprise is almost tangible, a sharp tang in her nostrils, and she has to wonder, not for the first time but not very seriously, if she isn't developing some very minor pheromone-reading skills of her own. "What? What'd I say?"

"Y-you said…well you didn't _say_, but…" He stares up at her, wide green eyes openly bewildered.

Usually she's able to draw some kind of conclusion from his confused half-sentences, but not this time. She'd only tried to clarify why the way she and Drew talk is similar to the way she and Megamind talk, and…oh. _Oh_. Well, that still shouldn't have surprised him to the extent that he's forgetting how to breathe. She bites her lip. "Megamind, you know of course that I'm planning on spending the rest of my life with you," she says in a low voice, meeting his eyes now with her own steady gaze. "You know that, right?"

His mouth falls open; no, he did _not_ know that. Several seconds pass before he manages to find his voice, and even then he speaks with some difficulty. "What?" he stammers, staring up at her. "You, you're…what?"

She just looks at him, slowly turning pink, then lowers herself down a bit, curling on top of him, her arms folded across his narrow chest and her chin resting on her arms. "You didn't know?"

"H-how was I _supposed_ to know?" he demands. His mind is starting to race.

"Are you kidding?" She laughs a little, biting her lip as she frowns at him, chagrined. "Megamind. When I said, 'I'm really never planning on leaving you,' what did you _think_ I meant?"

His whole expression blows wide with shock. _That's_ why she'd been so insistent on that point! "But you started saying that _weeks_ ago!"

Roxanne's smile this time is almost embarrassed. "Well," she says awkwardly, "I meant it. I'm sorry, I thought you understood."

He shakes his head, scowling now. "I don't read into things, you know that. Not _romantic_ things," he amends when she blinks at him, and then when her eyebrows go up—because he really does read into romantic things all the time—he has to clarify, "Not _positively_." He pauses as a thought hits him, going suddenly pale. "But th-this means…"

She waits, watching the emotions play across his face. The room is dark, but not nearly as dark as the room they share at home; there are no windows at home, and Roxanne's room here has two of them. The clouds from earlier have cleared away, and the moon isn't full but it's big enough to diffuse some light in through the gauzy curtains. Roxanne can see Megamind fairly well in the half-light—especially his eyes, which reflect a little—and his gaze is all _over_ the place, darting here-there-everywhere as thoughts wheel madly through his head. He looks the way he had all those months ago when she'd hugged him as Bernard, that happy-stunned look, like he can't believe what's happening or he's afraid he'll wake up. Clearly, he doesn't know what to do with whatever possibility he's thought of.

She lets him think, finally unfolding her arms and hugging him across his chest, still nestled under his arm. "Sweetie?" she prompts gently.

Tilting his head to the side looking as though this is a wholly new idea, his breathing is shallow as his restless gaze finally settles on her. "This means. You'll marry me?"

"If you ask me nicely. I might." It's coy, but she can't help the way her fingers on his shoulder tighten possessively any more than she can help the smile that twists her mouth up, and there's her _real_ answer.

His adam's apple bobs again, his nostrils flare. His eyes are wider than she's ever seen them. It's the middle of the night, they're both only mostly awake, and they're having this discussion now. He reaches up and cards shaking fingers through her hair. "Then will—_would_ you? If, _if_ I asked?"

"Of course I would." There's a silent _don't be stupid_ on the end of that, but she's smiling.

His whole demeanor changes in a split second with her response: he lets out a "_Yeeep!_" that's loud enough to make them both jump and then promptly covers his mouth, blushing to the tips of his ears. "I. Well, I. I don't know what to say!" he babbles as quietly as he can manage, fluttering his hands everywhere, up and down her body and face, tugging on the sheets, then finally just folding them on his chest, arms around her, and drumming his fingers as he half-gasps for breath. "This is unexpected! I'm. You just took me _completely_ by surprise, were you trying to do that? What do I say? I mean this isn't exactly how I'd _planned_ it but I suppose I could do it now if you wanted—it's just, th-the ring is still in the design phase, I haven't—"

She squirms out of his iron embrace so she can grab one of his hands, trying to help him pull himself together. "If you still want to do a formal proposal, that's fine," she says calmly. "But yes, if you ask me, I'll marry you." His face scrunches up, and she squeezes his fingers, trying not to laugh. "Don't _cry_."

He blinks furiously, his throat working. "I just…yesterday was the most _awful_ day," he mumbles, looking lost. "And now I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life. How do you _do_ that?"

She shrugs again, smiling. She can't help but feel a little smug; after all, she _has_ raised de-railing his many trains of thought to an art form. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: you're predictable."

His throat works, his mouth opens a little bit—his heart is in his eyes. It's the way he'd looked at her in the rain that night but without the hopelessness, closer to the way he'd looked at her in the fountain: like he doesn't know what to say or what to do, but it doesn't matter because the situation speaks for itself.

"So," Roxanne says, still smirking, "all that being said, is it all right with you if I switch this ring over to my left hand?" She lifts her right hand and wiggles her fingers at him, the little silver and turquoise ring shining mutedly in the sub-light. "Not as an engagement ring, I know," she hastens to add when he blinks and freezes, "but…as a commitment ring, I guess?"

Megamind takes her hands in his now, smiling shyly, and _oh_, Roxanne is convinced that if her mother could only see him smile like that she'd understand. "If you let me do it."

She laughs and lets him, grabbing his wrist before he can pull away and insisting that he let her reciprocate. He grins down at his ring, now on his left hand, and cocks his head. "Feels weird over there."

She grins. "You'll get used to it."

That green gaze flashes back to her and he's smirking, and his eyes are lit up like fire but his voice is quiet. "I sincerely hope so."

And it's so strange, snuggling back down with him in the soft night, looking at his thin face and remembering him whirling around in his chair and giggling like a child. Cuddling into him, his cold hands cupping her waist and gently fluffing the short hairs on the back of her head, and remembering how good he always was at tying knots and pushing buttons and sending those hands dancing lightning-quick over three keyboards at once while threatening her and taunting Metro Man in the same breath. He was a madman. He was a child. He was a villain, ruthless and cold.

But every once in a while he would say something, or _she_ would, and something would flicker across his face or behind his eyes. He'd look hurt or scared or worried or concerned or flattered and trying to hide it. Offended, once or twice. Fed-up, numerous times. Lost, only once. It was enough, though; Roxanne realized years ago that he was a villain mostly for the cameras. When nobody was looking, he'd snark and snipe at her but he was almost always grinning when he did it—he saved the _Evil_ Overlord for his true audience, the citizens of Metro City. He'd kept up the show with her for a while, a few years, but after Carn-Evil he'd more or less calmed down in front of her. After that, he'd been more of a Quirky Awkward Overlord.

_That's_ the man she's lying with now. The man she's fallen in love with. The man who looked lost that one time, and fed-up and concerned and reluctantly flattered. He's so strange, and he's so familiar. And she loves him so much.

She wriggles a little bit closer and tucks her arm tighter around him and nuzzles her head into his chest with a little contented sigh, then drifts off.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Megamind gets up at dawn and dresses. Jeans and a button-down shirt look normal enough on the outside, but there's spandex underneath—normal or not, all he wants today is to be comfortable. He debates for a while about whether to put on shoes. On one hand, he wants to be able to bolt if necessary. On the other hand, he shouldn't _have_ to bolt. Today is nothing particularly special, really.

At least, that's what he tells himself, but he seriously doubts Linda will stay holed up in her room all day, which means he'll have to interact with her. And he won't be wearing the watch, either, and as much as he likes to be able to look down and see his _own_ hands, he feels a little bit naked without his leather and spikes. As much as he knows civilian clothing will probably be easier for her to stomach than his villain getup, or even just his usual spandex, he doesn't _feel_ right. Like he's going into battle without any armor.

He used to feel that way around Roxanne, too. Back when they'd first started dating. That's what he gets for hiding behind his villain persona for so long.

Outside, the sky is lightening quickly; it's going to be a nice day, not rainy and gross like yesterday was. He'd woken up again in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of wind, but the clouds are from yesterday have mostly cleared up and there are big patches of blue over the choppy waves and the cliff, and the wind's from the east and blowing the clouds out to sea, for once. Hopefully the day's events will mirror the weather

He decides against shoes, decides to wear just socks with his jeans, but he also decides to wear the socks with little fish on them as a sort of weird rebellion. Then he leaves the room as quietly as he can, shutting the door behind him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Linda emerges from her room at six thirty, hoping she's the first one up, but luck isn't on her side today—Megamind is already sitting at the dining room table. The alien glances up and blinks at her, then looks quickly away again, returning his attention to the giant sheet of blue paper in front of him. She _is_ gratified to see that he looks a little nervous.

She hesitates, but ultimately decides to just come out and do her best to put up with him. Might as well, since he's going to be here for the next few days. And it might actually be easier to tolerate him while Roxanne is asleep and not breathing down her neck. Stressing her out.

"You're up early," she says, taking out the cereal.

He doesn't stop what he's doing, barely even looks up. "Yes."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I usually only sleep about four or five hours at a stretch on a good night." He sounds calm, but doesn't volunteer any more information. This isn't going to be easy.

She takes a deep breath, forces herself to sound as non-confrontational as possible. "What are you doing?"

Now he puts down the chalk pencil and looks at her, flattening his long hands on the table. He looks hesitant, suspicious even, but he replies, "I had an idea a couple days ago, it's been bouncing around in the back of my head ever since. The newspaper's on the side table if you want it."

He's still trying to put her off. "What idea?"

He cocks his head at her and squints. "Why are you talking to me?"

_Straight to the chase, then_. She sighs. "You're staying here. Whether I like it or not, you're dating my daughter. I thought I might as well be civil."

"You can be civil without talking."

He's only making an observation, but it comes out sounding colder than he'd intended, and Linda raises an eyebrow and sends him a hard smile. "Well, then," she says, and turns away.

He flushes and scrambles to clarify. "No, I—I didn't mean it like _that_. I just meant…" He huffs through his nose, mutters something that sounds like _really bad at this_, then says, "I don't understand why you're asking about my activities and habits as though you're _interested_. Such inqu-_eye_-ries are unnecessary for the maintenance of civility."

Up goes the other eyebrow. "Do you always get this formal when you're confused?"

He blushes harder. "N-not always. Just when I want to be clear."

She purses her lips, but nods. She hadn't really expected him to call her out like that, so she hadn't bothered thinking up a reason to cover up that she'd overheard him talking to his friend—Minion?—in the bathroom the night before. Of course, she'd only heard half the conversation, but still. It wasn't like she'd been listening intentionally.

Okay, _fine_, she'd been listening intentionally. Actually, she'd had her ear to the wall for most of it. Turns out, Megamind says some interesting things when he thinks nobody's listening.

_I'm just the weird blue thing nobody likes and nobody wants—I don't want to convince her to like me. I wish she'd stop yelling at Roxanne about it. I'm causing all this upset between Roxanne and her family just by being with her—just by being _me_ with her—_

What makes this hard for Linda to understand is that she knows about Minion. That fish has been with Megamind from the very beginning; it's responsible for pulling him out of trouble more than half the time. So he has no reason to lie to Minion; they're partners in crime! As near as she can tell, they're partners in _everything_. Which means, if Megamind wasn't lying during that conversation, he must have been telling the truth, at least for part of it.

Which means, if he _was_ telling the truth, then the other thing he'd said might also be true. But it was _so_ far-fetched…

"So then…why are you talking to me?" he asks again, but she's saved from having to answer when the front door opens and they both turn, but it's just Drew chewing on an Egg Thing.

He grins, waves, mumbles, "G'mornin'!" and shuts the door behind him. Megamind snorts and returns to his drawing.

Linda frowns at her son, distracted. "Trying to sneak back in before I wake up?"

He shrugs. "Dunno what you're talking about," he says easily, never mind the fact that he's wearing the same clothes he'd had on yesterday and his hair is a glorious mess of tangles, "I just went to get breakfast."

She harrumphs, but doesn't argue. "Uh-huh. You know the rules regarding walks of shame haven't changed just because you've moved out and you're sleeping with a giant squid."

"Ugh, _Mom_. Ku Aea isn't a _squid_, and you know ku hasn't been to the surface in years." He rolls his eyes and plunks a white bag down on the counter, then inhales the rest of his Egg Thing. Then he yawns. "Okay. I'm gonna go get a shower."

"Hold it!" Linda calls him back, tilting the open bag towards him. "There's only two."

"Oh, right. Yeah." Drew nods, unconcerned, and jerks a thumb in Megamind's direction. "Food allergies. He can't eat 'em. Hey, catch!" and he throws a green-and-red candy cane across the room. _There are entirely too many people throwing things this morning_. "And a very Happy Breakfast to you both. Now. Shower. Bye." And away he goes up the stairs.

Megamind unwraps the end of the candy cane and licks it, detects no trace of corn syrup, high fructose or otherwise. Awesome. He looks back at Linda, all amused curiosity. "What's the rule about walks of shame?"

"Anyone who conducts one must bring breakfast for everyone else in the house."

He laughs. "I like that."

After that, conversation stalls. It's probably for the best. Linda drinks her coffee and stares at the newspaper, her attention on the alien at the dining room table. Megamind ignores her. The old shower upstairs makes a terrible racket.

Megamind spends the next hour alternating between working on his drawing and moving aimlessly around the downstairs at random, wandering back to his blueprint every now and again; staring out the widow without moving at intermittent intervals, one time for nearly twenty minutes—Linda timed him—rifling through the magazines on the coffee table without opening any of them. Eventually he wanders over to the sofa, spins around on his heel and flops face-first into the cushions.

"Aaaa_aaagh_. Blah."

Linda scowls. "What."

His muffled voice trails over from the couch. "Bored."

"So read a book. Draw a picture."

He snorts. "I don't do _art_." There's a pause. "How cold is the water this time of year?"

She doesn't look at him, but she's focused in his direction. "Cold. Fifty, maybe a couple degrees warmer or colder."

Megamind nods, gets up, and goes outside. He doesn't come back.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When Roxanne comes downstairs, Megamind is nowhere to be seen. Her mother is sitting at the kitchen peninsula with a twice-empty coffee mug by her elbow, steadily filling in boxes in the newspaper's daily crossword puzzle. There's a large sheet of blue paper on the dining room table; Roxanne wanders over and finds herself blinking down at a tangle of circuitry and electrical schema. Shaking her head, she goes into the living room, but he isn't there, either. The old rainy day box, full of random arts and craft supplies, lies forgotten on the living room floor by the sofa; she's not sure what that's about. She's also not sure where it goes anymore, so she shoves it into the corner by the fireplace.

Then she stands there for a minute, looking around, until Linda says, "I think he went down to the beach a couple hours ago."

_Oh, lord_. Roxanne rolls her eyes, then goes to the closet where they keep the beach towels and pulls one down from the shelf, knowing Megamind probably won't have thought to bring one. "I'll be back," she says shortly, grabbing her jacket. The morning air is chilly—not as cold as Michigan, but cool enough in the shade to warrant outerwear.

She has the sliding door halfway open when her mother calls her back. "Annie, wait." Roxanne turns. Linda hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head. "Never mind. …It's not important."

_Whatever_. She turns back around and goes to head down to the beach.

…The beach, where Megamind is _still_ nowhere to be found, but there's a pile of clothes—a shirt and a pair of jeans with socks rolled up in one of the legs—hidden in the lee side of a rock near the old wooden stairs. She stares out at the choppy waves for a while, then slowly sits down on the towel she'd brought.

She knows he's a swimmer, has seen him go down to Minion's pool several times to relieve tension. She's not sure if it's part of his biology, necessarily, but he's always much more relaxed after going under for a while. Still, she's never known him to swim in the lake, and while he'd expressed interest in swimming on this trip, she hadn't been sure if he was really serious about it.

She hears him before she sees him, hears him laughing in the distance. Or she thinks she does. There's no way to be sure; the sound comes from far away and it cuts off abruptly. She doesn't hear anything again for a while, but then she sees something surface about a hundred yards out.

She sticks her fingers in her mouth and whistles at him, and he lifts his head further out of the water and spots her on the beach, raises an arm to wave. Roxanne motions for him to come back, and he nods once and dives.

He doesn't come up again for a good four minutes; when he does, he's close enough to shore that he can stand and wade the rest of the way in, spandex shining wetly. He's grinning broadly, still half laughing, and his steps are stumbling but he looks beyond happy—he's almost _dancing_.

Roxanne meets him with the towel as soon as he clears the water; she isn't going to wade in to him because the ocean is _cold_, and besides, she's not wearing boots. Megamind wraps himself happily in the oversized towel and tucks it up under his arms, then puts his freezing wet hands on either side of Roxanne's face and kisses her soundly. She resists the urge to hold him; she'd rather not get her jacket all wet, but he doesn't seem to mind. He tastes like the ocean and she can feel him smiling against her mouth just before he pulls back and lets go, already beaming again.

Roxanne blinks at him, unable to keep from smiling now, herself. "Good morning," she says, pleased and surprised. It's not every day her boyfriend swims in from out to sea and plants one on her without any sort of preamble.

He laughs, throws out his arms. "Good _morning!_" he cries, and nearly drops the towel in the water but catches it in time. "Oop—ha ha! Today is going to be a _good day_, I can _feel_ it!" He gives a happy little shoulder-wriggle and smiles so big that his eyes nearly squinch shut, then sweeps around her and staggers up the beach to his clothes. Roxanne follows him, confused but still smiling—Megamind's sudden good mood is contagious.

"Any particular reason why?" she asks, grinning at him. He tugs the spandex down and off his chest and arms, towels dry and then puts on his shirt before doing the same with his jeans, hiding behind the towel this time. There's nobody on the beach to see, but it's daylight and who knows who might be watching?

Jeans in place, he flops back on the stones and sends a pleased little hum up at the sky. "Whales!" He laughs helplessly, brushes his fingers against her anklebone affectionately. "I saw _whales!_" Apparently he's too happy to move.

She blinks, amazed. "Wait, just how far out did you go?"

"Only about a mile. Then I turned north. They were heading south, pod of five." He opens his eyes, green rings blazing up at her in the morning sunlight. "They're so _big!_"

"Probably gray whales," she tells him. "They migrate this time of year, we see them sometimes from the cliff."

"It was so cool!" he exclaims. "I was just swimming and then there they were!"

"I am wildly jealous," she tells him, meaning it. "I wish I could have seen that. This trip is turning out to be pretty wildlife-heavy, isn't it?"

He hums. "For me, anyway. And the ocean is _huge!_"

She laughs. "So is the lake," she points out.

Megamind sits up, still grinning and breathing deeply. "The lake doesn't _feel_ as big," he explains. "It's calmer. The biggest animals there are the sturgeons. But the ocean feels _enormous_. Like it's this big breathing thing, all push and pull. It's _comforting_."

Roxanne rubs her fingertips lightly over the top of his head, looking out to sea, and Megamind hums and leans his head against her hip. "You might be semiaquatic," she muses. This is his first time in the ocean, and he'd swum more than two miles with no problem. And he'd gone under for at least four minutes without running out of air.

He nods. "Probably. Judging by how I'm proportioned? Almost definitely." He doesn't sound too bothered by this, and she smiles. Then he gets to his feet and stretches. "I'm going to get a shower. Then breakfast?"

She smiles. "Shower then breakfast sounds like an excellent plan."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"You're not dead," Linda observes as Megamind comes through the porch door, followed more slowly by Roxanne.

"Sorry to disappoint," he replies, breezing past on his way to the stairs.

"Maybe next time," she mutters, putting her thumb in her book as a placeholder. "Annie, can I talk to you?"

Roxanne, who has just finished untying her shoes, glances up and nods. "What's up?"

"That ring was on your other hand yesterday." It's not in Linda's nature to mince words, but she leaves her question dangling silently at the end of her observation. She's not quite sure how to phrase it without sounding antagonistic, and at this point it's clear to her that if she can't be at least _civil_ about this mess, Roxanne won't even _try_ to deal with her.

Roxanne holds her gaze and voice steady. "It's a commitment ring—he'll propose when the time is right." Her mother presses her lips together, and she adds, very quietly, "I'm not leaving him."

Long seconds tick by, and then Linda gives a jerky nod. "I know." She gazes unhappily at her daughter, remembering pigtails and braces, driving to soccer practices and years of clarinet lessons. A half-hearted attempt at ballet. A stream and a frog and _National Geographic_, icing on corduroy overalls. Her quiet daughter, so afraid of public speaking she'd worried herself sick over it more than once. Today she's a star reporter and television personality, the face of KPMC, she networks and rubs elbows with strangers as easy as breathing.

She sighs. There's so much she _wants_ to say, but she knows Roxanne won't listen to her. "I hope you know what you're doing. I really do."

Roxanne's mouth twists, but all she says is, "When have I _ever_ been caught without a contingency plan?"

Her mother hesitates. There was Chad, but she's not about to bring _that_ up. It's not a fair argument, for one thing; for another, Roxanne won't stand for it. "You usually have some kind of a backup in mind," she reluctantly concedes.

Roxanne nods. "Right, well, in this case, my lease is good through May and I'm not subletting. I have my job, I have my apartment. I can leave any time I want."

"You think he'll let you go?"

She actually snorts at that one. "_Let_ me? I'd like to see him _try_ to stop me." Her expression softens as she tries to think how he might actually react to that. "He'd probably help me pack."

Linda stares at her. "_How_ are you so _sure?_"

Roxanne huffs a sigh. She really just wants this to be over. "Look. He wears his heart on his sleeve, okay?" She bites her lip. There's no argument she can make that her mother will trust. "Just…_look_ at him, just—just _watch_ him for _two minutes_ and—"

"Oh, like he's incapable of lying and hiding."

"You don't _know_ him!"

"Well it's not like his _whole career_ is based on it, or anything!"

"All right, _look_," Roxanne says, because if this devolves into another one of their actual fights, she's going to scream, "_enough_. If you're going to start attacking, I'm going to leave."

Linda holds up her hands, breathes through her nose. "Okay. All right. I'm done."

"Good." She starts to turn away, then wheels back around. "Just FYI? He's a _very_ good liar." She's not going to say anything about how he's terrible at lying to _her_. That would over-complicate things. "I could tell you about an _amazing_ stunt he pulled with me back in August, shortly after we started dating. He got so insecure he tried to trick me into leaving him, just because he figured I was going to do it eventually." She shrugs. "_And_ he tried to make me think it was because he was worried other villains would come after me for being with him."

Linda frowns. "Why the _hell_ would you stay with someone who pulls things like that?"

Because he was great about nearly everything else. Because if it was a regular thing, she _would_ have left. Her lip is starting to hurt, but it's a nervous habit, she can't help it. "It was one time. Everything else was fine. We were…his whole _life_ got turned inside out, and it took him and Minion a little while to…adapt." She shrugs, wishing there was a way to explain it that didn't sound so wishy-washy. "Of course he was going to be weird."

"Tricking your significant other that way isn't _weird_, it's _insane_." Linda sits back in her chair, scowling. "Not to mention that whole mindset is _extremely_ self-destructive. I take it you were lying about this being Jo's boyfriend, then?"

It takes Roxanne a minute to remember that she'd actually talked with her mother about this before. She splutters, trying desperately to think of what was said during that conversation. "Oh, that's…don't go all 'psychology degree' on me!" she exclaims, indignant. And then suddenly she remembers something and feels her mouth drop open. _Oh my god_.

Linda pulls up short. "That's a new face," she observes warily. "I don't think I've seen that one before."

Roxanne looks at her, eyes wide. She's trying very hard not to smile, but she's not sure if she's succeeding. "You know, it was _you_ who convinced me to give him another chance."

Linda reels. "_What?_"

Roxanne nods slowly. "Yeah, I told you what happened—well, kind of—and you, you went and did your psychology thing based on what I said." Linda is staring at her, but Roxanne can't tell if the expression on her mother's face is horror or disbelief. "You said something about…he was scared of me, of what I could do to him if he let me in. And he was scared _for_ me, too. Trust issues, and…" Batman and Alfred, that's what Roxanne had said.

"It's not fair for you to get involved in all that," Linda argues weakly. She's still halfway stunned, and can't put as much conviction into her statement as she'd like.

To her surprise, Roxanne almost _smirks_. "You're right, you know? Maybe it's _not_ fair for me to get involved in his issues, maybe I _shouldn't_ have to deal with that." She has to wrap this up fast; Linda won't stay subdued like this much longer. "But just because he has issues doesn't make him a bad person. Especially when he's working really hard to find ways to deal with stuff! And he _knew_ what he did was stupid," she adds, because that's important. "If he didn't, I wouldn't have stayed with him."

Linda shakes her head. "This is…you can't just…"

"Yes, I can," Roxanne says. Maybe her mom will believe this and maybe she won't; either way, she has to get this all out in the open _now_, before Linda's blind hatred and mistrust can progress any further. She knows her mom has legitimate reasons for not liking Megamind. It's the assumption that he _brainwashed_ her that Roxanne has a problem with.

"My point is, if you think _I_ think it's all sweetness and light with this guy, you're mistaken. He can be a real pain in the neck sometimes. Once you get past the bluster and '_eee_-vil' posturing, he's so insecure it _hurts_," she states flatly, then makes her way to the fridge and pulls out the carton of orange juice. "And he's just as stubborn as I am."

That one makes Linda pull back in surprise; of all the things she was prepared to hear from Roxanne, that wasn't one of them. "So, then…why _did_ you stay?"

"Well, like I said, he's working on it," Roxanne points out, pouring herself a glass and then turning around to lean back against the counter with it. "And I can deal with rough patches. It's not a deal-breaker." She rolls her eyes, starting to smile a little. "Honestly, Mom, we're _stupid_ compatible in just about every other way. I can fight with him. He can be impatient, but he's kind. He's funny and we work well together." Her smile turns sly. "And he is _amazing_ in the sack."

Linda's jaw drops in horror. "_Annie!_"

Roxanne laughs. "Well, it's true!" She shakes her head, finally starting to relax a little. "Ugh, give it _up_, Mom. I'm just as hard to deal with as he is. Besides, he puts up with _my_ emotional tomfoolery—"

She cuts off abruptly at the sound of loud, hurried footsteps overhead, and suddenly Megamind bolts down the stairs and out the front door, yelling something about "_A tree there's a tree holy crap it's a tree!_"

Roxanne peers after him, mildly confused but unconcerned. Linda frowns at her. "What was that all about?"

Roxanne shrugs. "No idea. Mostly I just try to stay out of his way when he gets like that." She reaches for the abandoned newspaper. She's done talking about this, unless her mother asks for more information—unfortunately, she isn't sure how Linda took all of what she's just said. But it will only get worse if she tries to justify herself further. She really shouldn't have said that about how Megamind is in bed. Still, she keeps her tone as nonchalant as possible as she asks, "You done with this section?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Here," Megamind pants as he runs up to the black SUV at the curb, "if I get on the roof and roll it to the side—"

"You'll crush too many branches that way." The big man grappling with the tie-downs shakes his head. "You get on and lift the top of the tree and then scoot it back toward me down here."

"Aye cap'n." He hops up on a wheel, then onto the hood, and from there he's able to scramble on top of the car with very little trouble, crouching with his feet on either side of the roof rack. "Ready?"

"Give 'er a shove!"

The tree, which is wrapped in plastic netting to keep the branches contained, doesn't require much shoving to start sliding back, and Megamind quickly jumps to the ground and races around behind the car to catch the top of it so it doesn't hit the ground. He has to stretch his arms above his head, but it works, and then he's able to lower the bundle onto his shoulder. Meanwhile, Orson Ritchi tucks the trunk end of the tree under his arm and glances back. "Got it?"

Megamind nods, grinning. "I'm good."

"All right, then in we go."

It's not difficult to recognize the man in front of him as the bearded giant in the photographs Linda showed him the day before. He's bald, tattooed all over his arms and, for some reason, his scalp, but the beard in the pictures has been replaced by the most spectacular gray-blond muttonchops Megamind has ever seen. This is not what he'd expected when he'd tried to imagine Roxanne's father, Linda's husband. He'd imagined someone much more…clean-cut. A suit, not a bomber jacket over a tee-shirt and jeans.

He has to admit, with nothing more than physical appearance to judge, he much prefers this.

"Oh, lord," Linda is saying as Megamind follows Orson into the house. "You brought a tree, of course you did, let me find a blanket to put it on…we'll have to have Drew get the stand out of the attic, you couldn't have given me a little more time to prepare?"

"Hush, woman, let an old man catch his breath," Orson scolds in a good-natured drawl, and simply drops his end of the tree on the carpet without paying any heed to the sap, then snags his wife around the waist and dips her in a deep kiss. Linda squeaks, then shoves at his chest.

"Oh, _stop_," she says, but she's laughing. "I am too old for your antics! Orson Ritchi, you pick that tree up and put it on a blanket before you destroy my carpet."

"Yes'm," he says, grinning. "Soon as I'm done saying hello to the kids." Linda plants her hands on her hips but he ignores her, turning to grab Roxanne in a big bear hug. "Hey hey, Roxannie. Finally made it home!"

"Me or you?" she asks, grinning.

He snorts. "Guess I'll have to go with 'both,'" he replies. Then he frowns and puts a hand flat on the top of her head. "You went and grew another couple inches. I swear to God, you got to stop doing that."

"Daddy, I have not grown a single centimeter since you saw me last and you know it," she laughs.

He raises his bushy eyebrows at her. "Must be getting old, then. Whoa!" This is when Drew, who has been sneaking up on him, jumps to hug him around the neck from behind. "Kid, you are gonna be the death of me…"

This is clearly where Drew gets his wide shoulders, but he hasn't grown into his frame yet the way Orson has. "Hi, Dad. Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't've missed it." Yes, he would have, but nobody argues. He claps both his children on the back, grinning hugely. "C'mon, let's get the stuff out of the attic."

Which leaves Megamind and Linda to spread an old wool blanket on the floor and move the tree onto it. "The carpet will be okay," he says, trying to hide the little grin he can't seem to push away as he looks down at the greenery. "I can make a solvent that'll get sap out of _silk_. It'll be fine."

Linda frowns at him. "What's got you all smiley all of a sudden?"

Megamind straightens, dusting off his hands on his jeans. "I've never had a Christmas tree before." He glances up at her, green eyes dancing. "Are they all this big?"

She sighs and shakes her head, doing her best to ignore how delighted he looks. "No, Orson just has a flair for the dramatic." She rolls her eyes and goes into the kitchen to wash her hands and get the jug they'll use to refill the tree water. Megamind trails behind. "Tromping in here like Santa Claus with a huge tree that'll only fit in the foyer is exactly his kind of style."

Megamind doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't try. "I'm glad he was able to come home."

"It's nice to have him around, yes," she agrees. "I'm not sure how much he'll be home while you're here; as I understand it, there's a meeting in the city tomorrow afternoon. He probably won't be back until late."

Megamind frowns. "But that's Christmas Eve."

Linda shrugs, retrieves the jug from its place in the cupboard above the stove and turns the tap on cold. "The people he works with don't really celebrate winter holidays."

He scowls. "Well I don't care _what_ they celebrate! He needs to be _here!_" He honestly sounds outraged. "They can't postpone it two days?"

"It's an interplanetary summit."

Megamind bites his lip, frowning as he thinks for a moment. "Is…there anything _I_ could do?"

She snorts. "_You?_"

"I'm pretty good at kidnapping people," he says slowly. "If I set up a perimeter around the house, I could maybe…"

"All right, first of all, this is the first summit meeting _ever_ held on Earth and you _will not_ disturb it," she snaps, cutting him off. Then she turns around and stares at him. "And second, are you threatening to kidnap my _husband?_"

Megamind blinks at her, whole face stretching in surprise, then holds up both hands. "Whoa, hold on, no. _Offering_. Offering, not threatening. Crussial difference."

She squints, outraged. "Cruss…it's _crucial_. And what is _wrong_ with you? You see a situation you don't like and your first instinct is to _kidnap someone?_" she demands, aghast.

Megamind points at the jug in the sink. "It's overflowing." Linda turns and smacks the tap, turning the water off with a curse. "And kidnapping isn't my _first_ instinct," he adds. He _sounds_ confused enough at her accusation, but Linda remembers yesterday—how angry he'd been, how precise he was with his words and arguments. No matter what Roxanne says, she's seen the man behind the smiling, sheltered mask, and she knows he's nowhere _near_ confused. The fact that he's trying to play the innocent here only pisses her off.

So she lets her hackles rise. "Don't play games with me," she snaps, and he ducks his head a little but keeps looking at her from under his eyebrows. "You might be able to fool the others but you _can't_ fool me."

Green eyes flick to the side and he frowns. "I'm—I'm not trying to fool you." Linda scoffs, but Megamind dips his head further, looking more bewildered than ever as he tucks his elbows against his sides, twists his hands together in front of his stomach. "My first instinct _isn't_ to kidnap. It really isn't. When I see something I don't like…I want to fix it. That's all."

Linda's hands are on her hips again; she's not sure when that happened. "Oh, _that's all?_" she mocks, and he nods. She starts to say something else, but he interrupts, frowning down at his hands.

"I think the problem here is that I don't have the little thing in my head that tells me what's not okay."

She snorts. That's possibly the biggest load of crap she's ever heard; if it were true, he wouldn't have been able to figure out what was evil and what wasn't. "Oh, you definitely have one. You just don't _care_."

He blinks at her, looking injured. "I care!"

"No, you don't," she says flatly. "You _don't_ care when you cross a line. You see the line and you _dance_ across it, pointing at it and laughing like it doesn't even apply to you at all."

Megamind falls quiet. Linda, rolling her eyes and wondering just what her children and husband are doing up in the attic that's taking them so long, heads back out to the living room with the water jug. She puts it down on the coffee table, then lowers herself into her armchair.

She can't escape him for very long, it seems. Megamind is suddenly there, too, standing between her armchair and the sofa, gazing at her with the full force of his focus. "You're right," he says.

Linda frowns at him. That's what Roxanne had said earlier, that she was right, and this is equally unnerving. "What?"

"You're right," he says again, hands by his sides, head tilted slightly. "I don't always care very much about playing by society's rules. And that probably does make me some kind of monster, by human standards."

She raises her eyebrows, unable to contain her sarcasm. "You think?"

Now his face contracts. His eyebrows pull together, and he raises his head and squares his shoulders. "But I am asking you, please, to give me the chance to show you I'm _not_ the monster you think I am." His throat works, and he risks a shy smile. "I'm a different breed entirely."

Linda bites the inside of her cheek and forces herself to take a deep breath instead of snapping what she _wants_ to say—he doesn't deserve that chance, he never will, and it doesn't matter what _breed_ of monster he is; just that he _is_ one. She breathes slowly through her nose and asks, as calmly as she can, "_Why_ does this matter to you?"

His smile this time is more of a crooked, rueful grin, and he shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Because eventually I'd like to be able to trust you not to kill me in my sleep?"

Linda lets out a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "Seriously?"

He shrugs, still looking sheepish. "No…I'm not really asking for me. I'm used to people trying to kill me; I don't mind." Linda can't tell if he's being serious or not—he _sounds_ serious enough, but then, he has to be a brilliant actor to be able to radiate constant sincerity the way he does. "This time, Roxanne is stuck in the middle," Megamind says earnestly. "You're her _mother_. You…you don't have to _like_ me. I know you're never going to like _me_. Just give me a chance." He waits, but Linda only looks away, stares at the tree lying on the blanket on the floor. She _won't_ believe him. She _won't_.

"I'm _sorry_," Megamind says after the silence drags on for a while. "I never—I never meant to hurt her. Or you. S-so, for what it's worth—"

Linda is quiet. "Enough."

"But I—"

"_Enough!_" She stands quickly, pain singing through her hips, and Megamind actually falls back a step. She shakes her head. "I don't want to hear it. I don't _care_ whether you meant it or not. I don't _care _what you_ intended_." The alien isn't the only one who knows how to present himself—Linda makes eye contact and holds his gaze, squares off with him, and this time he's on the defensive. "You hurt my daughter physically and emotionally, you repeatedly endangered her life and well-being, and that is something I can't forgive. And on top of that, now you're driving a wedge into my _family_."

A brief, stricken expression flits across Megamind's features. "With respect, Mrs. Ritchi," he whispers, apologetic, "_I'm_ not the one driving the wedge."

Linda doesn't miss a beat. "You _are_ the wedge," she snaps, and he flinches. "And you _disgust_ me. So _stop_ trying to trick your way into my good graces—I know the game you're playing, and it's not going to happen."

"There's _no_ _game_," he insists, looking openly stunned. Sounding desperate. The blood is pounding in Linda's ears. She's held her rage at bay this long, but he won't stop _pushing!_ And he has the _audacity_ to hide it behind a vulnerable façade—he looks like a kicked puppy, seriously, how _dare_ he try to manipulate her like that—and she's starting to crack, starting to waver in her resolve. That conversation with Minion had really given her some things to think about, but—her eyes widen slightly as she remembers that as goofy as he seems sometimes, he _is_ a genius, and it's all an act, and…and he must have _known_ she'd be listening to his conversation last night. _So _that's _what that was about!_

Time to put an end to this. She takes an angry step forward. "You aren't _worth_ the _time_ it would take for me to consider reevaluating my opinion of you, so you might as well give up now." Another step, and Megamind backs away, wide-eyed and hurt-looking, which only makes her angrier. "I will _tolerate_ you. I will be civil with you in front of Roxanne. But I will _never_ stop trying to show her who you _really_ are, and you will _never_ be part of _this family_."

Megamind pulls back as though she just slapped him, and for a moment, Linda thinks he's going to really react to that, but then his face just sort of falls. His lips thin and his eyebrows pull together and his shoulders slump. He looks…_disappointed?_ That can't be right. She'd expected anger, she'd expected him to snap and snarl at her the way he did yesterday, but no, instead he simply looks resigned.

"Fine," he says quietly, "You want me to give up? Fine. Have it your way." He shrugs, his voice and his features bitter and cold. "I give up." And with that, he turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He's going to go see what's taking the others so long. It's easier than sticking around and giving Linda the opportunity to gloat.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He manages to keep himself under control through lunch and not dwell on things too much. Having Orson there helps immensely; the big man somehow manages to project his calm aura over the whole household, and it also helps that Linda and Megamind are able to interact with everyone else and not each other. Megamind is pretty sure Roxanne—who's smiling more often than not today—doesn't even notice the extra tension. And now that he's resolved to stop caring about what Linda thinks of him and stop worrying about offending her or pissing her off, he's feeling a bit more relaxed. He'd never expected to feel _relaxed_ after another altercation with Linda ending on a bad note, but there it is.

If he's being honest with himself, though, he's relaxed but he's also upset. He _does_ still care what she thinks, even if he doesn't want to, and maybe he should have expected that she'd refuse to let him try. In retrospect, he probably should have. She hates him with good reason, so why should she let him even _attempt_ to change her opinion of him?

He'd hoped she might do it for Roxanne's sake. But that's not going to happen either; she's too stubborn. No, Linda's rejection of him this time was total, and the weight of it hangs like a stone in his stomach, ruining any appetite he might otherwise have had. He picks at his lunch and tries not to think about it, without much success.

After lunch, he sits and watches the family decorate the gigantic tree Orson brought home—which they have managed, against all odds and possibly several laws of physics, to squeeze into the living room despite its height. Honestly, he'd rather watch than participate. It's a better distraction than he'd thought it might be; it isn't perfect, but it does take his mind off things better than any of the lunch conversations did.

Just like when he'd watched Drew and Roxanne help their mother in the kitchen, it's clear to Megamind that everyone has done this many times before. They unwrap tissue-covered ornaments one by one and either hang them or pass them off to somebody else. Strangely enough, some of the little figurines and baubles appear to belong to certain people—at one point, Orson unwraps a little silver cradle and looks around for Roxanne, saying it's hers. Shortly after that, Roxanne unwraps a silver bell and passes it to her brother with both hands, and judging by the way he smiles and gets up from his reading to hang it, it's definitely his.

At one point, Roxanne pulls a cheeky mouse on a red ball off the tree. "Aw, who hung this one?"

Drew glances up. "Sorry, that was me."

"It's _mine_," she says reproachfully. "I'm moving it."

And there's almost always a memory associated with the ornaments. Even the balls, except for the plain colored ones, seem to have little stories attached, and the Ritchis recount them to each other without being asked. They're from neighbors long moved away, or family members, or they came from vacations. That's one thing Megamind has always wondered about: why anyone would bother putting multitudes of pretty things on a tree and then, a week or a month later, taking it all back off again. The utter uselessness of the idea has always stunned him.

_This_ makes sense, though. The ornaments are memories. Little shards of family.

Megamind looks around at them—the four of them, Orson laughing at something Linda is saying, Roxanne shoving Drew and grinning, teasing him for sitting around reading while everyone else is having fun. The way Drew's mouth pulls wide in a smile when he shoves her back and pretends to return pointedly to his magazine, the illusion of which is ruined when his father turns and asks him a question and he answers without thinking.

It's all so _comfortable_. These are people who are totally, utterly at ease with one another despite all the differences in personality. They might fight, they might argue and yell, but they're a family. They couldn't get rid of each other if they tried. Maybe if they _really wanted to_, but they don't really want to. They have each other to fall back on. Linda and Roxanne are at each other's throats half the time, usually, but today, there they are chuckling at Orson's antics. Drew and his father have—as far as Megamind can tell—absolutely nothing in common, but they're still casually swapping stories about work.

Megamind had Mitch and Guduza, but he's always been surprised at how long they remained cellmates. His other uncles' tense friendships with each other were shifting, never constant. He calls Mitch and Guduza, and the warden, to some degree, his family. But he's never had anything like what he's seeing here, and he still isn't sure if he ever will. The kind of family that wants you even when they're upset with you. The kind of family that _he_ will want, even when he is upset with them.

He has Minion, and that's all he's ever had. And Minion is family, but he isn't _a _family, not a whole one. Maybe—_maybe_—Roxanne will be there, too. He rubs his thumb against the ring on his finger and thinks he might have a chance of this with Roxanne.

After a while he turns his focus to a piece of mostly-blank computer paper, folded in half and braced against a book, and after looking at it for a few seconds, he starts brushing a stub of pencil over the surface. At first he still pays attention to the conversation as well as his work, still participates, but after a while his mouth is a thin line and his eyebrows are drawn together and down and the pencil jerks in short strokes across the folded page. Eventually the strokes begin to come further and further apart, and his expression slowly turns from frustrated to focused and then studiously blank.

Roxanne heads to the kitchen, claiming she needs to go and re-fill her drink, which she does. When she comes back, though, she slips down on the couch beside him and peers over his shoulder.

She'd expected some kind of plan or other, and she's surprised to find that he's sketching, instead. He rarely draws anything other than designs, but this is a man and a woman, obviously his species, both bald. She would have thought the man was a self-portrait if the beard and the nose hadn't been so different—Megamind has his mother's nose, she realizes. These can only be his parents. But they look so worried.

He puts the pencil down on the side table, presses his lips together. She looks at him. He tilts his head towards her but doesn't look up.

"You're lucky," he says softly.

She rests one arm along the back of the couch around his shoulders, and leans close and presses her lips very briefly to his temple. "I wish I could have met them," she murmurs in a similar tone before settling back.

He nods. "So do I." There's a pause. "I wish I could say they would have liked you, but really, how should I know?" He wrinkles his nose and glances over at her. "I don't even know if they would have liked _me_ very much." Roxanne pulls away a little and gives him a Look, and he chuckles and looks back down at the picture. He knows. He's kidding.

She smiles gently and nods in the direction of her own parents—Linda is finally leaving the room to shower and dress for dinner; she and Orson are going out later. "Well. Even if they _didn't_ like me, it couldn't possibly be worse than _your_ trial by fire, right?"

That gets a real laugh, if a short one. "Right," he replies.

"What are you two talking about over here?" Orson says, and before either of them can say or do anything he's peering over Megamind's other shoulder. "Oh, well hey. Look at that. You do this just now?"

He nods, suddenly stiff and suddenly _very_ glad that Linda is no longer in the room. "I—yes. Eidetic memory."

Orson lifts the paper from his fingers and holds it further in the light, squinting at it. After a moment he has to take his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket to see better. "This is incredible. These are your folks, aren't they?" He doesn't sound like he expects an answer, simply muttering, "Wow." Then he looks back down at the blue alien sitting by his daughter on the sofa, hands twisting in his lap and shoulders tight, and he says, "The loss of T Pyxidis was devastating."

Megamind looks up, shocked, mouth open to question—but no sound comes out. Orson's ruddy face is kind.

"We could've learned so much from you," he says gently, and offers the scrap of paper back.


End file.
